The End of the Road
by taoist elf
Summary: Fleeing a nightmare past, Bella's driving until she loses the road. "Darlin' this ain't Vancouver. Everyone up here's runnin' from something. But it ain't a place for a city girl to be doin' it alone." BxP & AH (or is it?)
1. The End of the Road

Disclaimer: _All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended. Blah blah blah... just havin' fun._

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This short story is dedicated to the awesome **Jonesn** for her "rugged" prompt. Check out the contest on Ffnet by looking up the writer: TheRuggeddomContest to enter and/or enjoy. (I'm just writing to the prompt for fun)

This little story jumped into my head and I need to evict it. I'm just playing and thought I'd share in case it was fun for you too. No twilight and all-human (or is it? ;-)

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_Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy._

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**1 - The End of the Road**

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She never imagined the end would look like this:

A dilapidated cabin where an overgrown dirt access road faded into the forest.

Strong-arming the jeep into park, Bella stared out a windshield smeared clear of debris to binocular edges by the wipers. Frigid rain fell from trees overhead in a syncopated percussion against the roof as she stretched fingers that were tingling from their three-day death-grip on the wheel.

And as soon as she'd put the car in park, the fear caught up, tumbling over her in a noxious wave.

Bella was sick of being scared.

A soft whine jolted her out of paralysis and her eyes snapped to her copilot… the dog. Bella was pretty sure God had cut his losses and given up on her years ago.

"So this is it, Seth," she murmured, reaching out a mittened hand and rubbing it over his sandy head. He snuffled and chuffed doing a nimble 360 in the passenger seat even though he was as big as a wolf he looked like. It made sense, since he was half-wolf, if the Inuit couple at the general store 22 miles back were to be believed.

And they had been right about the fear – and all the supplies they'd made her buy – so Bella supposed it didn't make sense to start questioning them now.

"This sucks for you, but I'm glad you're here," she whispered, smoothing her hand over his back. The dog had taken a liking to her in the store and Leah and Sam had insisted she'd been officially adopted. "Let's get in before we freeze to death."

Bella bit her mitten and yanked it from numb fingers then pulled the keys out of the steering column. She hated the cold. And wet. This part of Canada had both in record amounts.

In a million years Bella had never have dreamed she'd end up here – 3,000 miles into the northern wild. But who was she trying to fool? There _were_ no dreams anymore. How could there be when she was doing nothing but running from a nightmare.

Bella turned achingly in her seat. Yanking the door open, she slipped down from the jeep and onto the muddy ground. The dog pushed enthusiastically by, making her yelp in pain as a bruise banged into the door. He whipped around, his felty ears plastered apologetically to his head.

"Not your fault," she smiled, reaching out a bare appeasing hand. He gave it two warm laps of his tongue and then trotted around the jeep, nose to the ground as he explored the new territory.

A frigid breeze tore through the forest, bringing down more rain and Bella grimaced, pulling the hood of the jacket up tighter as she yanked the seat forward and dragged out the first box. Hugging it to her chest she turned back to the cabin and stared for a moment.

"Come on, Bella," she huffed under her breath. "You can't lose it now."

She'd come so far.

To this…

Bella trudged toward the porch, watching as Seth galloped around the cabin with frenetic sniffs. He paused by the corner and lifted his leg, letting loose a torrent of pee over the decaying wood.

A laugh burst over Bella's lips with a puff of steam, surprising the crap out of her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard that sound.

"I'm glad it meets with your approval," she sniffed at the dog who trotted over. He waited for Bella to climb the rickety steps and then leaped up all three in a single bound and started on a snuffling inventory.

With a distracted smile, Bella set down the box and pulled the keys out of her pocket, searching for the one she'd bought from the old man down in town.

But with just that amount of pressure the door swung open.

Bella froze for a moment, staring into the house as it huffed out a musty breath. Her eyes darted down to the dog.

"What do you think, Seth?" she whispered, suddenly beyond grateful the couple had made him tag along.

Seth's tongue lolled and he trotted over to her side expectantly. With the beast beside her, it made it a little less intimidating to step over the threshold.

And into a cabin that was just as much of a shambles as the rest of her life.

The keys dropped from her fingers with a clatter as she walked woodenly into a single room that was as shabby as the deteriorating exterior. A table and single chair were pulled in front of a fireplace. In one corner was a wooden bed with a mattress covered in blue and white ticking and in the other were some cabinets and a dog-eared counter.

No stove. No sink. No bathroom.

_Holy crap._

Bella spun slowly around, dismayed eyes taking in the dismal surroundings. How was she going to survive this? Well, it was certainly off-grid, out of cell phone range and a place where money couldn't buy surveillance.

For a brief second she second guessed her decision not to accept help from her best friend. But she didn't want Jacob risking his life, righting her own wrongs. He was at the top of his NBA game and Angela had just had the baby….

That could have been her.

Hindsight was so disgustingly 20/20. She and Jacob had grown up in Washington, DC together as lifelong best friends but she'd known he'd always wanted more. Instead of crossing that line and settling down, she'd been stupid and chased the devil.

And he definitely wore Prada.

This was her penance: a dilapidated cabin at the end of the road.

And Bella was just going to have to suck it up and take her cue from Seth.

Tail up, the dog was happily exploring the room like it was a five-star penthouse. Hopping up on the bed, he walked around in a circle and then flopped down, resting his head on his paws and blinking back at her with puppy-dog eyes.

Heaving a sigh through a sickly smile, she flapped her hands against her thighs.

"I'll just get the rest of the stuff."

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Bella awoke to a growl rumbling under her cheek.

With a gasp, she bolted up, wide, disoriented eyes careening around a foreign room.

It took her a second to remember.

The dog (and her pillow) promptly hopped up to four paws and slunk toward the door, muzzle peeled back from bared teeth while he continued to snarl. Rubbing her face with mittened hands (she'd slept in every last thread of clothes she owned), she kicked free of the sleeping bag on the bed as her eyes darted nervously toward the front door.

The chair was still propped under the handle.

"Seth!" her whisper plumed in the freezing air.

Hackles up, the beast was growling at the door.

A loud tumbling crash outside had Bella screaming and diving for the bed, covering her head with her hands as the dog launched into snapping barks. A low animalistic growl scurried from outside and Bella peeked up as Seth scurried back with a whining yelp.

She trembled, frozen in terror and realizing just what a huge mistake this all had been. She'd listened to the wolves howling all night long until exhaustion had finally won out and now one was on her porch. Or maybe it was a bear.

God, she didn't even have a gun.

But it was _human_ footsteps that clomped across rickety wood. They sounded like they leaped to the ground, before retreating evenly away.

Biting her lip, Bella pushed off the bed, tiptoeing toward the front of the house. The shutters were closed but as she got close enough to the window she could peek through the slats.

A large man was striding toward the woods, an axe thrown casually over a ridiculously broad shoulder. Dressed in red flannel, suspenders and jeans that clung to an ass even Bella could appreciate, he moved with a gait that was all liquid grace even in boots. Each long stride was taken in a prowl that made those bulky shoulders sway back and forth like an animal straining against a leash.

Bella's brows knit in confusion as she moved toward the door.

Her hand hovered on the chair under the doorknob for a moment, then with a steeling bite to her lip, she yanked it free.

She peeked around the door out onto the porch.

The man didn't so much as pause in his stride but as he passed the jeep, she could appreciate just how huge he was – he had to be at least as tall as Jacob's 6'7" with two times the bulk.

"Hey!" she called out – obviously not in her right mind.

The man continued his swagger. "Go back where you fucking came from," he snarled, all gravel and grit.

Behind her, Seth started barking again.

Bella blinked, opening the door a little more and thoughtlessly catching the dog's collar as he tried to bolt by. Her gaze automatically darted to the jumble of logs that had been tossed haphazardly onto the porch.

_Firewood_!

She'd never been so glad to see anything in her life. Bella had bought a little kerosene heater at the store, but had just run it long enough to thaw out her hands after using the bathroom… in the outhouse. It was the grossest thing she'd ever done, but she was betting it was going to be a habit.

Bella looked back up with gratitude hovering on her shocked lips.

But the man was gone.

She dropped the dog's collar in surprise as she went up on tiptoes to peer over the jeep but he'd disappeared. Seth went tearing out into yard, sniffing and snuffling at grass and leaves that had frosted overnight but he didn't give chase.

Bella was glad. As intimidating as the big wolf-dog was, she'd place her bets on the man in a fight. Even without the axe.

But he'd brought her _firewood_.

And she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Puffing out a breath of steam, she rubbed her jacketed arms against the cold and went to work on her prize.

Half an hour later, a roaring fire in the hearth had magically transformed the shabby shack.

That was, after she'd figured out that she needed to open the flue. She'd had to open the shutters and windows to air out the smoke.

Then pouring some dog chow in a bowl she headed outside to the outhouse with a grimace.

Back inside in record time, she pulled the mattress off the rope-webbed frame and set it in front of the hearth. She filled the kettle she'd bought with water from the stream and set it in the fire.

Now curled up beside Seth with a book and mug, packet of cocoa and cup of noodles she was ready to start...

God, what was there to start? This was the end of the road, not the beginning.

Resigned, she let the warmth and dancing flames soothe her as she stared numbly into the fire.

This wasn't going to be sustainable, but Bella had no idea what else to do short of calling for help. Her father, Jacob, the few friends she still had… anyone who helped her would be risking their lives. She just needed to hide out here for a month or so.

Eventually he'd have to leave Canada, wouldn't he?

At least she was finally free.

The water started boiling faster than she'd expected and she let it bubble away – to kill any germs – while she peeled away the paper from the Styrofoam cup of soup. Grabbing the kettle handle with a towel, she poured water over the dried chunk of noodles and then closed the lid again, resting her book on top of it. Then she tore open the cocoa and poured it into the mug.

Seth sneezed at the chocolate dust as he watched her with interest. Bella picked out a dried marshmallow and offered out to his sloppy tongue. She giggled softly and poured water into the mug and stirred it with a plastic spoon.

But Seth suddenly leaped up to his feet, his tail sweeping over the book and the cup of soup. Bella caught it before too much had spilled out on the floor and turned to the animal with a scowl. He was standing expectantly in front of the door, his tail whipping back and forth so vigorously it made his whole body wag.

Outside the sound of tires crunched up the dirt road.

Stomach tanking to her toes, Bella stood up just in time to see a police cruiser pull up beside her jeep.

"Great," Bella hissed, stooping to pick up both noodles and mug and set them on the table on her way to the door.

Seth was now panting out the window, his front forepaws resting on the sill. The sound of a car door closing made him bark excitedly and then leap through the open window.

"Whoa there, boy!" a voice laughed outside.

Bella pulled open the door to see a blond man in uniform stooped over the excited animal who was doing laps around his legs.

Bella stepped out on the porch and the man looked up with kind blue eyes.

"Mornin' ma'am," he drawled in the first American accent Bella had heard for a week.

Bella leaned against the porch post, studying him. "You're American?"

His smile broadened as he gave the dog another pat and then straightened, rubbing his palms on his hips. "Texas born an' bred. Sammy said you were a Yank too."

Bella nodded cautiously.

"I'm Jasper Hale," he gave her a disarming grin. "Migrated up here to get a little of the last frontier. 'S close to the Wild West as a cowboy can find these days."

She shifted uncomfortably against the porch post. "I'm Bella." She bit her lip on any last name. No last names.

Jasper went with it. "Well, that makes me pleased to meet ya."

He shoved his hands in his back pockets as Bella's gaze slid uneasily down to the ground between them.

"'Mind if I come up for a minute?"

Bella looked up to his raised brow. Seth liked him, he looked harmless enough and was obviously some kind of law enforcement. But… "Why?"

"Fair enough," he nodded with an unperturbed smile. "Well I'm a real straight shooter, so lemme give it to ya straight, darlin'. Sam n' Leah asked me to come up and check on you. I thought maybe you and me could have a little chat – 'fellow countrymen and all."

Sucking on her lip, she nodded minutely and turned around.

"C'mon Seth," the officer said behind her with a slap to his thigh.

Bella glanced over her shoulder as she strode through the door to find the man exuberantly ruffling the dog's fur. He caught her looking.

"They always said _I _was the only one he liked," Jasper sniffed as he walked up the steps. "But looks like you beat me out. I just might be a lil' jealous."

He was being sweet – trying to make her comfortable with small talk. But Bella didn't have it in her to join in.

Bella trudged into the shack, giving it a once-over with new eyes. It did look totally pitiful. She knew she'd be lucky to survive out here for a week, but still, it was better odds than the alternative.

"See you got yourself a fire goin' at least."

_Not on her own_. Bella turned to find him scanning the room with a tight smile.

"Would you like some cocoa?" she asked quietly.

"Well, that'd be real nice, darlin'."

Bella pulled another mug from the box on the table as he stood uncomfortably in the doorway.

"Have a little trouble with the flue?" he chuckled.

Bella looked up from where she was tearing the packet of cocoa open. He jerked a smile toward the open windows. "How bout I close 'em for you now?"

Nodding again she turned her attention to the cocoa and dumped the powder into the mug before she stepped around the bedding and poured some water from the boiling pot. Seth traipsed back in from outside and plopped down in front of the fire.

She watched out of the corner of her eye as Jasper closed the windows while he covertly assessed the room and her supplies. He pushed the door shut and picked up the chair beside it and set it by the table, motioning her into it with a flourish of his hand.

"I'm fine standing," she whispered as she pushed his mug across the table. She took the plastic spoon out of her cup and handed it to him.

With an overstated groan, he settled in the chair and pulled the steaming cocoa toward him.

"So what brings you to our neck of the woods, Bella?" he asked just a little too casually as he stirred his cup.

Bella leaned her hip against the table and cradled her own cocoa between her palms as she watched him try to avoid her eye.

She wasn't in the mood for games.

"I thought you said you were a straight shooter," she said carefully.

Those piercing blue eyes looked up from his mug and he gave her a thin smile. "Touché," he sniffed. "How 'bout I tell you what I already know?"

Bella lifted the mug to her lips and took a sip of warm sweet.

His gaze fell back to the cocoa as he continued to swirl it with the plastic spoon. "An American girl who couldn't be a day over 25-..."

"29," she corrected.

He looked up with a wry smile. "You look good, darlin'."

Bella flicked her eyes up and he laughed softly.

"Okay a _young_ American girl comes up to this God forsaken country in nothin' but a hoodie and sneakers," he began.

"And jeans," she corrected with a saccharine smile.

He smothered his grin as he tapped the spoon against the mug and set it on the table. But when he looked up again, his eyes were stone-cold serious. "Leah said you didn't even know what you needed to buy," he whispered.

Bella pressed her lips together and took another sip of cocoa, barely tasting it this time.

"Paid in cash, no cell, no clue, no plan…" he continued lowly while Bella's eyes stayed locked on the knobby wood of the table. She heard the man set the mug down before he whispered, "Leah saw the bruises."

Bella's eyes darted up sharply.

His lips were turned under in a sad smile. "Darlin' this ain't Vancouver. Everyone up here's runnin' from something," he paused, looking Bella straight in the eye. "But it ain't a place for a city girl to be doin' it alone."

Bella swallowed thickly, feeling trapped.

Seth chose that moment to pick his head up off his paws with a whine and Jasper laughed. "And Seth's a step in the right direction, but he don't count, huh boy?"

He was trying to lighten her up, but it wasn't really working. Her nose started prickling dangerously.

_Not now. Not here._

He saw it. "Aww, darlin'," Jasper crooned, scooting back the chair with the scrape of wood.

Bella cowered back, hunching in on herself, and he froze.

Pulling her shirt over the heel of her hand, she wiped her nose brusquely as she turned away from the stranger and stared into the fire with eyes that were watering.

"Look, whatever's going on, I can help you," he whispered. "Come back to town, rent a room from Sammy until things settle down. We can get the authorities involved if we gotta."

Bella wiped at her eyes as she stared at the dancing flames. Seth pushed up to this paws and crossed to push his nose into her stomach. She petted him with an absent hand and he collapsed back to the floor at her feet. "You don't understand," she rasped.

"Well, maybe I don't," the man murmured kindly. "You can go ahead and make that right, though. Sadly, there ain't nothin' you can tell me that I ain't seen or heard before."

Bella shook her head, looking back up with a sniffle. "It's not safe."

"Now let me tell you a lil' somethin' about _not safe_," he tried a roguish grin. "Even if you survive the weather, these mountains are full of wild animals and the worst of 'em are men. They told you about that lone wolf who lives up here?"

Bella nodded. Leah had tried to dissuade her with horror stories, but she was used to nightmares by now.

"Well it ain't just camp fire tales, missy," he sat back down and blew on the cocoa. "That man's as crazy as a loon. They say he killed his papa with his bare hands when he was just fourteen years old. They only found _some_ of the pieces and you could pick 'em up with tweezers."

Bella's face inflated in horror. Okay, so Leah hadn't been _that_ specific. Something made her mind snap to the man who'd left her firewood this morning.

"What does he look like?" she whispered.

Jasper took a sip from his mug. "Not many see 'em," he gasped and set the mug down. "But they say he's even bigger than Sammy. Inuit. But, lord, he's gotta be an old man now. That story's fifty years past infamy. There's others too – before my time, mind you," he sniffed a laugh. "I'd like to see him try any of that with me around. I love a good hunt."

Bella cut wary eyes down the table, but Jasper seemed lost in his thoughts.

"Only way we know he's still walkin' is he leaves furs and a list of supplies out back at Sam and Leah's. They say he's gotta kill the things with his bare hands – no sign of gun or arrow and they all got four paws."

Bella frowned, turning back around curiously.

Jasper tipped his head with a smile. "Some use steel traps so the pelts stay pristine, but the Inuit won't use 'em," he took another sip of hot chocolate.

"So he's old?" Bella asked him quietly.

"Mm hmm," Jasper nodded, his eyes darting over her face trying to read whether his scary story was doing the trick. "Gotta be sixties, unless he had a boy or somethin'. Or maybe someone just took his calling card. Sammy's daddy used to leave him his supplies back when the old man ran the store."

Bella's eyes fell down to her chocolate as she worried her lip. "I saw a large Inuit man this morning."

Jasper choked on his chocolate.

Bella looked up as he coughed a few surprise rounds.

Thumping a fist on his chest he looked up with tearing eyes. "No one's fool enough to be up here, this time of year," he rasped. "Especially Native. The weather changes faster than a bitch in-…"

Bella blushed and Jasper cleared his throat.

"Beggin' your pardon," he muttered. "Ain't nothing but men up these parts, unless you count Leah. And I'm sure you got an earful of that mouth."

Bella smiled uncomfortably.

Jasper heaved a sigh as he cocked his head at her. "Little darlin'," he murmured. "I'll go grey thinkin' about you up here all by your lonesome. Just come on down and stay in town, 'least till the spring really gets her claws in good."

Tucking her head, she slowly licked her lips. "It's not safe."

Jasper sat back like he was flummoxed. "It's a whole hell of a lot safer than it is up here, that's the God's honest truth."

Bella looked him straight in the eye. "For you," she whispered. "Have a good day, Mr. Hale."

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Miraculously, Bella made it through the next three days.

In the scarce daylight hours, she didn't dare explore out of sight of the house so she played with the dog or sat by the fire with her books. The nights were spent trying to stay warm while lupine howls raised chill bumps on her skin. She was surviving, even if she was a little worse for the wear.

But this was her wake-up call every morning: the ripping growl under her cheek followed by the thumping crash of wood being dumped on her porch.

She'd creep to peek through the shutters to watch the man, sauntering into the woods with his axe and not a backward glance. And whether it was that she was lonely or bored or both, there was something about his audacious (if not grumpy) generosity that made her at least want to know his name.

So this time, Bella quickly wiggled free of dog and blanket and pushed off the mattress she'd left by the hearth. Yanking out the chair from under the knob, she threw the door open, blithely catching Seth as he tried to charge by her with snapping barks.

"Hey!" she yelled after that plaid swagger. "Who are you?!"

The man froze, right in front of the iced over jeep and a hand pushed through shaggy dark hair that hung around his ears. He hefted the axe from his shoulder to hang heavily down at his side while the dog continued to bark his fool head off at her side

Suddenly the man's face snapped around and he bared teeth in a shockingly animalistic scowl that silenced the dog and had him scurrying back into the house.

Her nerveless hand numbly let him go as dark eyes slipped up and strangled her.

_Holy crap._

Under a layer of wild scruff, the man's features were wilder still: intense, rolling and almost feral, with narrow eyes, high cheekbones. His lips were hitched up subtly on one side, making him look on the verge of a sneer or slitting a throat.

Bella's heart had the chance for one wheezing flail before that gaze was ripped from hers and cast off into the woods, leaving her breathless.

"You know who I am," he murmured in a voice so dark and quiet that it made a shiver scuttle down her spine. But there was something addictive about it that made her want to hear it again.

"Do I?" she rasped, clinging to the door frame.

He sniffed a laugh that rolled in a billow of mist.

Bella blinked, her nails bending they into the doorframe as he turned all the way around, holding her hostage with those intense eyes.

"They warned you..." he breathed, cocking his head crisply to one side as he took a step toward her.

Bella's heart dove for her toes.

"About the animals that live in these woods," he crooned as he continued that menacing slink.

He stopped right at the bottom of the steps, staring up at her with burning black eyes and a mouth slung in a smirk that made it was clear he enjoyed being a predator. His eyes strummed over her face, with little feral jerks like he was feeding off every micro expression of her unguarded fear.

Then those lips dug deeper into a leer and he kicked a booted foot into the axe, sending it into an arc back up to his shoulder.

Readjusting his hand on the wooden handle, he tipped his head the other way. "You shouldn't be up here alone, little girl," he whispered, cold and slick and clammy. "It's your last chance to leave before the snow."

And then he turned on his heel.

Bella's heart sprinted ahead from steel trap blocks and she yanked a breath into starved lungs. At her hip, Seth whined plaintively and her gaze darted down to the dog's worried eyes. "Shh, it's okay," she whispered, even though it was a blatant lie.

She'd only glanced down for a second but when she looked back up the man was gone.

She panned the empty woods in disbelief. Then her knees buckled under her as sensation whooshed back into her body like a flood, bringing a sharp pain in her hand. Her eyes darted to fingers that had dug into doorframe to find her nail bent back and bleeding down the wood from its death-grip.

Biting her lip on a sob, Bella slithered numbly down to floor, cradling her hand in her lap while big fat tears rolled down her face and the dog licked them away.

She lost track of the time.

Bella had no idea how long she sat, shivering in the cabin doorway with a whining dog resting his big wolfy head in her lap. But by the time she gathered the strength to push up to feet that had gone to sleep, the blood on her hand was dried to sticky and fire in the house withered to embers.

Heavy clouds were now choking the sky through the treetops and the day was still like the quiet before a storm.

_She couldn't do this. _

She couldn't live with the fear any more. They were all right: there was nowhere to run. He'd be searching for her now. People would probably say she was paranoid, but Bella knew better- he had the money and obsession to pay mouths and eyes. She couldn't go to any real city or town.

But she obviously couldn't stay here.

She rubbed cold hands over the dried salt on her face, sniffling miserably as she turned back to the cabin. Pressing together determined lips, she stumbled back inside and starting tossing supplies haphazardly in one of the two boxes that now contained the sum-total of everything she owned.

Maybe she could find another hiding place further north? Or maybe she should head for the coast? Her brain felt sluggish and swollen as she manically threw dirty dishes and cocoa and blankets and clothes back into the box.

Fear started rising again, burning its way out of tear ducts to make everything blurry. She tripped on the dog on the way out of the cabin and he yelped.

"Sorry, honey," she hiccupped, her voice all bloated with tears.

She careened toward the jeep and had to set the box on the hood to yank open the frozen door. Stowing the first box of things, she headed back to the house for next load, groaning at Seth who kept weaving between her feet with agitated whines.

She scanned the cabin one more time, finding the missing mitten and then left wrappers and dishes strewn on the counter, not even bothering to close the door. She stuffed the other box into the back seat and waited for the dog to hop up into the jeep before she climbed in after him. She leaned gingerly back against the seat. Sleeping on a rock-hard mattress hadn't helped her heal: she was still sore.

Shoving the key into the steering column she listened to the engine struggling to turn over.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" she hissed, hitting her palms against the wheel. She yanked the key again and the engine made the high whining click of death.

"Crap!" she sobbed, collapsing against the steering wheel.

A hot wet tongue swiped over her cheek and she lifted her face to find the first flurry of snow fall on the windshield.

'

'

Bella's eyes popped open to darkness threaded by a soft whine.

Picking her heavy head up from the dog's side, she turned to find the fire still popping and glowing with feeble warmth.

She snuggled in closer to Seth's furry side, burrowing down deeper in her sleeping bag to try to dive back into frenetic nightmares and the closest thing she got to oblivion these days.

But then a heartbreaking howl – different from the rest - shattered the night and sent her pulse skyrocketing.

Gasping, Bella bolted up, her head whipping around to the back of the house. The braying cry came again, long and chafed hoarse.

Bella's hand dove into the dog's thick pelt, clinging for comfort. Again the keening cry outside bled agony into the darkness.

Bella pushed up to her feet, staring out the back window, shuttered tight while Seth circled around her, whimpering with stress. The next cry was more like a bellow and the palpable pain lanced straight through her heart like a knife.

"It's hurt," she whispered, looking down at the dog's big eyes, shining in the firelight.

Without a sane thought in her head, Bella swept up the flashlight beside the bedding and grabbed her mittens from the table. Seth chuffed and jumped at her side as she strode purposefully to the door. She opened it to a world blanketed by a thick fall of snow and iced by the silent moon.

"Holy crap," she whispered, her breath condensing in a cloud. It looked like over three feet had fallen overnight.

Seth bounded out into the snow with abandon, leaping and racing through white fluff like a kid high on candy. But at another mournful howl he froze, his head snapping around to the woods behind the house.

She was already wearing her jacket – which she basically hadn't taken off since she'd bought it from Leah – so she flipped up her hood and pulled the string taut so it cinched around her face.

Slipping into her mittens she closed the door behind her and took the first step out onto the snowdrifts on the porch.

She knew it was the stupidest thing she'd ever done – which was really saying a lot considering the last decade of her life – but Bella was sick of the fear. She was coming to terms with the fact that she was going to die in this thing, one way or another, and in some ways having it over would be a relief.

That lamenting wail echoed off the mountains, sounding more like a barking sob at the end. It broke her heart.

And if she was going to go, she might as well be trying to do some good.

She trudged out into the snow, promptly falling off invisible steps and landing face first in the drift. Seth only made things worse by jumping on her like it was a game.

"Seth!" Bella groaned, fisting her mittens in his fur and at least getting a hand up. She fished around in for the flashlight which glowed like the moon under the powdery white.

And then started off.

It was slow going as she plowed through snow that came up to her hips. It had soaked through her jeans and long underwear in about a thirty seconds flat.

And it was freezing. _She_ was freezing.

Seth stayed close to her side as she swept the flashlight back and forth in the forest ahead. The trees stretched up like goblins, dancing and twisting in the thin beam of light. Silence cloaked the woods like the snow, with only the muffled sound of wind whipping down from the mountain and dumping drifts from the pines. Every once in a while another suffering howl climbed the sky, each one sounding closer and more ravaged by pain.

It was the only thing that kept her going.

A glance of her flashlight caught movement to her right and Bella froze, her heart beating like a timpani in her throat. She blinked lashes that were frosted from the cold as she stared at the two points of yellow light only 100 feet up the mountain. Whining plaintively, the dog scampered behind her with its tail between its legs.

Slowly she swept the flashlight back toward them while prickling dread climbed her spine like a tarantula. There, beside a large boulder, lay a gigantic silver wolf…

In a gruesome circle of steaming crimson.

"_OhmyGod_," she breathed. Bella's mouth was so dry she couldn't swallow as her eyes darted over the animal, lying in what she assumed was a pool of its own blood. She took the first step toward it and its muzzle peeled back from wicked canines.

"Shh," she crooned as she fought through the drifts. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The animal tried to push to its feet but fell back to the snow in a bloody flail, but strangely the wolf didn't snarl or growl or make any kind of sound. Maybe that was worse.

Bella pressed chapped lips together as she took the next step through the hip-high snow. Above the dark twisted skeleton trees, the dead-eyed moon cast its gaze over the sight a wounded predator powerful enough to strike her dead with a casual paw.

Whether it was insanity or hypothermia, Bella wasn't afraid.

The flashlight jostled with each plowing step, throwing the macabre scene into disorienting shadow, but as she got closer, her eyes began to understand. The beast's hindquarter was crushed in a huge steel trap whose heavy chain lay like a rusted snake across the bloody snow.

Bella covered her horror with a wet mitten as tears sprang to her eyes and froze on her lashes. She tried to wipe the rainbows from her gaze with the wrist of her jacket as she stopped twenty feet away and studied the hopeless scene before her. The trap was big and bulky, as long as her leg and thicker still. Grotesque metal clamshell teeth dug into the crushed bone.

She had no idea how to spring the thing, even she could get close enough to try.

Her gaze lifted to that sober yellow stare, intense and quiet, even though its muzzle was peeled back from canines dripping with steaming spittle.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered.

The beast held her gaze for a moment – eyes glowing eerie and intelligent in the light of her flashlight – and then it lowered its head to the snow. Seth started barking behind her and she shushed him with a hiss.

Whether the creature was going into shock or was merely saving up its energy for the mortal blow, Bella decided she was past caring. She moved a little closer, turning all her attention to the trap. There was no way she was strong enough to spring it with her bare hands, but it looked like there was a little bit of space between the two rows of teeth – maybe she could pry it open?

She immediately cast the beam of the flashlight around her and then cried out when she saw a fallen tree only several yards away. She trudged toward it while Seth continued doing agitated arcs around her with little yipping whimpers. Putting the flashlight in her mouth she grabbed one of the larger branches and threw her whole body into breaking it off. It took hanging off of it with all of her weight before it broke, sending her flat on her back in the snow.

Seth whined and licked her face and she shoved him off and then struggled to stand. After several tries she made it up to unsteady feet.

She felt so lethargic and she knew it wasn't a good sign, but dying of the cold was a good way to go. She was pretty sure it was like going to sleep – maybe she could get the trap pried open before she closed her eyes.

Fighting with the big stick, complete with an afro of branches she didn't bother to strip, she dragged both it and her sluggish body toward the animal panting heavily on its side. Gasping needle-cold air into her lungs, she approached slowly but those eerie eyes were closed now and not an ear flicked in response.

Maybe the wolf was dying too.

She took the first step into the bloody circle not caring if the wolf reared up and took off her head or if she fell asleep in the midnight drifts. She knew this was the end.

At least it would be by no man's hand.

Seth was now full-on barking behind her, but Bella's woozy attention was so focused on the suffering before her that she barely heard it. She fell to her knees to the crimson ground, her cheeks feeling the faint heat rising from the churned up gore.

Still the animal didn't move.

Setting the flashlight down and then scraping together red snow to prop it at the right angle, she glanced up at the wolf's head, flopped down on the snow while it panted rapidly. Biting numb lips she struggled to her feet and then fell in a face-first flounder back to the ground.

And then a second time too.

Wiping away blood and cold, she tried again, lurching up and propping herself on the branch. Panting like she'd run a marathon, she swayed on her feet for a moment as she tried to get her bearings.

The image of a wolf laying motionless in the snow seemed like some kind of bleary dream she was watching from far away. With sound blinks, she tried to focus double vision as she clumsily jimmied the stick into the space beside the wolf's leg. Wiping the back of her mitten over her brow she stepped on the edge of the trap to try to hold it steady and yanked the stick down with all of her might.

And everything happened at once.

That bloody hindquarter slipped free and the wolf had spun around and up to three making her stumbled back. She landed on her ass as a metallic snap echoed over the sound of splintering wood and the animal's rabid snarl.

Then Seth attacked.

Bella scrabbled back through the snow as the dog leaped for the beast's throat and the two went down in a flurry of sand and silver, ripping into the snow with vicious growls. The flashlight rolled from its perch, throwing the scene into shadow but with a soundtrack of savagery.

With the last of her energy spent – and hope bankrupt long ago - Bella let her head fall back to the snow.

And closed her eyes.

'

'

In her dreams there was warmth.

Swallowing her whole, cradling her body in sway, seeping into her skin and washing away trauma and cold.

Bella sighed quietly, turning her cheek into the wind chime tinkle that poured across her forehead before she remembered: there _were_ no dreams.

So she'd died and gone to heaven. Why in the world had she waited so long?

Another soothing spill swam over her hair and she tipped her head into it trying to drown just a little more. Yet a brush over her cheek that was somehow both rough and gentle, held her face still as that heated sluice soaked into her scalp. She turned into that touch with the softest hum.

A low dusky chuckle echoed in the hollow of her ear and Bella entire being jerked stiff.

That hand slipped from her skin and her eyes clenched tighter – because it _was_ undoubtedly a hand. A muddled mind scrabbled through the loose gravel of memories as she dragged herself up into sentience.

There was no hand that should be on this skin.

With a gasp, her eyes popped open to golden daylight, shocking her senses and making her pupils ache. She was staring at a ceiling of wood beams and skylights…

And the upside-down face of a man.

Smirking.

With a shriek, she sat up - hands instinctively clapping over her breasts before she'd even registered the fact she was sitting in a tub. Water sloshed over the edges on either side as she pushed away and Bella frantically blinked against streaming rivulets of water.

The man held up two yielding hands.

"Wha-…What?" Bella spluttered, wiping a shaking hand down her face and then glancing down to see that she was wearing nothing but her undies and bra under the water. She wrapped her arms around her breasts and pushed back to the farthest corner of the large tub, bringing useless knees up between her and the intruder.

Those intense black eyes wandered over her a moment, heating the water against her skin before they returned to hers.

And stayed there.

It took a heartbeat: she knew this man. He was the one who brought her firewood.

For several long seconds she could do nothing but stare.

Finally he drew in a breath through his nose. "It's the fastest way to warm a body up," he tipped his chin toward the bath, keeping his eyes locked with hers. His voice was rich, deep and sinful like dark chocolate to her ear. "I found you in the snow."

Bella's eyes darted back and forth between that steady gaze while she tried to find the details or even _outlines_ to piece it all together.

"The wolf?" she whispered – her voice was rough and raw like she'd been screaming bloody murder for years.

He sniffed with a dismissive jump of his shoulder and that smirk deepened on one side. "Your dog's hurt."

Her eyes widened. "Seth?"

She was answered by a whine from a room beyond. "Is he okay?" she rasped.

His brow lifted. "Will be."

Hands still raised, the man shifted with exaggerated slowness to stand and Bella licked her lips nervously as she cowered lower in the water.

"Going to clean him up now," he murmured slowly.

Bella's mind was still racing and getting nowhere while he straightened to that intimidating height. "What about the wolf?" she choked.

He sniffed as his eyes did a brief circuit of her face. "Who knows? Fucking idiot got into a bear trap."

The intensity in that gaze chafed and she had to look away. When she looked back up his back was turned.

"There's clothes on the bench," the man told her in that quiet prowling voice and then he disappeared into the other room.

Bella stared after him for a moment as she tried to get her bearings.

Her gaze then darted over the wooden bathroom, taking in her surroundings for the first time. It was a nice-sized room crafted completely of stained wood like a sauna or something with an open doorway out into the house beyond. She could see a heavy oak table strewn with dishes and a kitchen cluttered with pots and anonymous bundles hanging from a rack over the counter. She squeezed her arms tighter around herself as she listened to the noises from the room – Seth was whining again over the sound of the man's low murmurs.

She turned her attention to the bathroom.

Steam rose from the bathwater up to condense on the two skylights overhead that were covered in snow. The tub was large made of shining copper, set over a grating that dropped out through the floor.

And there was actually indoor plumbing! A shower head drooped from the wall over the tub and along with a faucet with one knob. Along one side of the room was long bench – with clothing folded neatly in a pile - and at the far end was a door.

It was peaceful.

When the sounds in the other room quieted and the man didn't appear again, Bella began to relax. She pushed through the water to the other side where a towel had been rolled up and propped on the edge, presumably for her head. A stool sat where the man had been and beside it was a pitcher and a bar of what looked like homemade soap. Something made Bella pull her hair over one shoulder, examining it with tentative fingers – it was a little on the dry side but it smelled clean.

He'd washed her hair. And she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with hypothermia.

It was somehow sweet and erotic and as terrifying as sin, all at the same time.

Her eyes narrowed as they darted back to the empty kitchen. She couldn't afford to let down her guard with this enigma, even though something made her want to trust the man. His mixed messages were beyond confusing – he'd told her himself he was the one they'd warned her about.

A man and monster, rolled into one.

Bella had had enough of those.

Eyes staying locked on the open doorway, she reached down and picked up the soap and rubbed it over her body under the water. She wondered if he'd done that too - it made her skin crawl to think about it.

But it was wonderful to be clean.

She'd tried to sponge-bath in front of the fire in the cabin, but it didn't work very well. She grimaced at the murky water as she set the soap down and stood, covering her bra with an arm. Reaching up to the towel hung on the wall she pulled it free and quickly wrapped it around her as she stepped out of the tub and water tinkled off her body and down into the wooden grate.

Eyes on the doorway, she backed up slowly to the bench, grabbing up the clothes on her way to the door in the back. She opened it to find a little room with a composting toilet and a window that overlooked a hillside covered in snow.

Men always had a thing about the bathroom.

She smirked to herself as she closed the door. She did however appreciate the more civilized facilities.

It was much colder in this room and in the end there was nothing to do but strip of her wet underwear and go commando or freeze. She did so and then dressed quickly in what the man had provided. She pulled on the long underwear bottoms and rolled them down at the waist and up a million times at hem, then slipped her feet into the wool socks. She topped it off with the wife-beater and a flannel shirt that hung down to her knees like a dress.

It was ridiculous but at least she was warm.

Balling up her underwear in the towel she ventured from the toilet to find the bathroom still silent and empty so she crept on tiptoes out into a large lodge of a room. Vaulted ceiling, thick beams, stained wood, it looked nothing like the shack she'd come from and, exactly what "cabin in the woods" had in her dreams.

There was a rustic lived-in kind of clutter with snowshoes leaning by the door alongside a rifle, sacks of supplies, clothes and furs. There was a large table that separated the kitchen from the living area and a stone hearth that ran the entire length of one wall. In the far corner was a large unmade sleigh bed.

Seth was curled up on an actual bearskin rug in front of the fire.

Behind him on a long couch piled with pillows and blankets, sat the man. He didn't look up, but the dog did.

Seth whined at Bella and then his attention darted up expectantly to the man.

He didn't so much as glance at either of them. "Go ahead," he murmured.

Seth sprang to his feet and then she could see the bandage down his side and wrapped around his front forepaw. He limped his way toward her, wagging a maniac tail. Grinning, she squatted and dropped the towel so she could wrap her arms around the big animal. Bella fell back on her behind with a giggle as he took snuffling lapping inventory.

As he surveyed her with a rooting nose, Bella's gaze darted back to the man, sprawled out in a lounge against the couch. He was wearing that same red flannel rolled up forearms that were spread over the back of the sofa, with his long jeaned legs propped one over the other in front of him. He was idly wiggling socked toes at the dancing flames.

While she petted the dog, she took the opportunity to examine him a little closer. He was built like a football player but with bulk that was more on the quarterback side of lean. The firelight clung to the caramel lines of a face that was striking in its intensity and as handsome as the day is long. Narrow eyes seemed to bite into the fire and there was a subtle resting tension in his jaw under a shadow of scruff. His profile was just as strong and feral with a slight underbite making his lower lip jut out with contrasting sensuality.

Bella couldn't remember the last time she'd been attracted to a man.

But she was. Attracted.

What was wrong with her?

She lowered her gaze as Seth lapped at the blush that rushed to her cheeks. Grimacing, Bella shoved the beast off and then stood, bringing the towel with her and rubbing off the slobber.

Tail wagging his body, Seth limped gingerly back to the man on the couch and skirted several excited times back and forth around his legs before pushing his big head into the man's lap. A hand left its perch to absently scratch the dog's head a few times before returning to roost on the back of the couch.

Still thrilled with even that lackadaisical attention, the dog chuffed and then headed back for Bella.

"He seems to like you a little better," Bella observed with a sniff as her fingers threaded with the sandy fur.

"A dog needs to know who's master," the man replied quietly.

And then he turned and looked at her.

It felt like she'd been staked through the heart. His eyes dug into hers for a moment and then shimmied free and slithered down her body and then back up to her face, a half smile slinging up lazy lips.

Bella blushed and looked down at the towel balled up against her chest.

When the fire just popped and crackled blithely on, she looked back up to find him still watching her. Bella's brows pushed together in annoyance fueled by discomfort.

If anything that smirk deepened and then he was pushing up to his feet. Bella instinctively backed up against the wall, Seth cheerily following her, but the man turned away, lacing his fingers and then flipping them up in a stretch over his head. His body arched into the movement with feline languor and a soft grunt.

Then he turned and started prowling toward her. It would have been the most terrifying thing she'd ever seen except he was favoring one foot. The subtle limp was shocking in the context of that liquid grace.

Worry pushed the words out in a jumble. "_Whathappened_?!"

The man rounded the couch making her shrink further into the wall from the sheer force of his presence and Seth snuffled as he sat on her foot. She glanced down to see his ears plastered submissively to his head.

When she looked back up the man was at the table and reaching for a blue speckled kettle. His suspenders were hanging down over each thigh, crisscrossing that ass and the flannel strained over his back, making his shoulders look massive. Tipping his head to the side, he dragged a matching mug toward him – the ones made from tin coated with ceramic – and leisurely poured out a stream of steaming black and then picked up a spoon and stirred with metallic clinks.

She didn't think she was going to get an answer, but then he turned around holding with the cup. "It's just a sprain," he sniffed as he strode slowly toward her and his mouth curved into a private smile. "From carrying a 100lb girl through the snow for miles."

He stopped only a few feet in front of her and held out the cup. Bella had to tip her head all the way back to the dark eyes peering down, steady and hard, over the plains of his cheeks. And all she could think was that she was certain he could have carried quite a bit more.

The man arched a brow and Bella blinked her head back into the game. "Thank you," she whispered, reaching out for the cup and grateful for the excuse to flee those eyes.

She tucked the towel under an arm and took it in both hands, steadying the cup with fingers on the handle and rim. "I don't even know your name," she murmured. Bringing the mug to her lips, she blew absently as her eyes darted up under her lashes.

That cocky smile was gone for the moment and in its stead was an expression that for the life of her she couldn't read. His gaze flitted down over her face like he was working something out in his head.

"Do you have a name?" It was Bella's turn to arch a brow and his eyes darted back – the pupils widening for a moment before they contracted harshly. Something about it made him seem vulnerable.

Until he painted that sardonic smirk back into place. "Paul."

No last names… good.

"Bella," she replied and then took a sip to wash it down. The coffee was surprisingly good – sweetened to insanity with a chicory finish. "Mm," she hummed sincerely.

"You're staying for a while."

The words were as quiet and shocking as a knife between the ribs. Bella's brows crashed together in surprise as she met that unreadable stare. "Ex-excuse me?"

"Until the snows melt," he informed her in words that were simple, sleek. "A week, maybe two."

Bella nearly dropped the coffee on the floor. "N-no!" she coughed incredulously, taking a step after him and nearly tripping on Seth.

The dog was reacting to her emotional spike. She pushed him away with a frustrated grunt. "No! I was going to leave but s-something was wrong with-… with the-…"

"Jeep," he threw over his shoulder as he continued his stalking hobble toward the front door. He turned as he sat in a chair against the far wall and fixed her with that crooked smile as he reached for a boot. "Not my problem."

Bella stumbled toward the table and set the coffee down, shoving Seth roughly away. Too many emotions to name were churning in her chest – anxiety, claustrophobia, fear, fury… "B-but-…"

"I warned you," he chuckled to himself as he hunched over his lap and pushed his foot into the first boot.

"I'll just go back to town-…" she was close to tears now.

"No, you _won't_," he bit out without even gifting her a glance. "You're staying with me." He shoved his second foot into a boot and then started lacing it.

Bella was frantic. _"But I don't like sex!"_

She had no idea where the words came from, but suddenly they were ringing in the air like tinnitus. Bella clapped a horrified palm over her mouth.

Paul's hands had frozen on the laces. Slowly – freaking agonizingly slowly – he lifted his head, his lips locked and loaded on a wry side.

Eyes mortified-wide, Bella's cheeks throbbed with her blush.

His hands started blindly tying his boot again. "I do," he whispered, in that voice of aural sin.

It was all just too much.

Tears broke through the dam, pouring humiliating salt in her wounds. With a little squeak of pure-… pure _everything_, she stalked across the room toward the door. Wild animals, psychopathic husbands, miles and miles of snow - anything was a safer bet.

Leisurely lacing his boot, Paul watched her cross the room with complete unconcern.

As soon as she opened the door she understood why.

The cold was shocking, the view was more so still. His cabin sat on a mountainside overlooking rolling hills of snow-covered wilderness and pine. There wasn't a road, a plume of smoke, a power-line as far as the eye could see.

The wind slapped her across the face, tugging at her damp hair with icy fingers. In the distance she heard a hawk's cry.

"Bet you'd like it with me."

That murmur had Bella whipping around to find Paul lounging in the doorway, a smile smoldering on his lips and in his eyes.

Wrapping her arms around her middle, she took an uncertain step back out onto the porch and right into windblown snow that melted into her sock in seconds.

His eyes curved with thoughts as they darted over her face and he was pushing off the door holding up placating hands at his waist. "But I didn't say anything about sex," his voice was all velvet and silk as he took a satin step toward her.

Biting her lip, she watched him under his lashes as he stopped mere inches away. She could feel his heat pouring off his body. He smelled of fire and forest and male.

Dark eyes were hopscotching over her face like he didn't know where to look first. A hand lifted and carefully pulled the wayward strand from her face, the callouses on his fingers barely brushing her skin.

She couldn't have moved a muscle if she wanted to.

"I won't touch unless you ask," he murmured, his breath wafting over her face with coffee and sweet as his eyes finally settled pointedly in her own.

Bella's breath caught in her throat as he leaned down slowly – freaking agonizingly slowly – until his lips were right beside her ear.

His whisper curved up in a smile, "But I also bet you will."

'

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_Review if you like._


	2. Invitations

Thanks for all the notes and faves. Just a blanket apology to non-regular readers: I write long-assed chapters.

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A/N:

I had been trying morph Alex Meraz to fit into my mental image, when really he's just too sleekly snarky for this version of Paul. In my head, I'm going more for a Jason Momoa type (with shorter hair and tamed brows lol). I put an image in the cover that's kinda close but the beauty of fiction is you can imagine who you like.

The underlying theme song for this story is an old one I found: Barefoot by kd Lang. If you look it up on Youtube (and you should if you want a haunting/moody/snowy vibe) then make sure you get the original and not remastered.

'

It's par for the course when you're snowed in with a beast, but Bella's got a rough ride ahead.

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Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy.

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**2 - Invitations**

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'

A wind whipped up from the valley, tossing the snow in a mini blizzard across the porch. Seth's warm tongue lapping against Bella's hand pulled her frozen mind free from drifting disbelief.

With a soft gasp, she turned out to the porch, squinting into the sharp bite of rainbow crystals to find nothing but a lonesome vista of white and a trail of blue-pit footprints being filled in by blown powder.

The man was gone.

_I'll be back before dark._

That's what he'd said, wasn't it?

As he'd shimmied by her and out onto the porch after drizzling molten brass into her ear.

Biting her lip and hugging herself tighter, Bella tried to keep from blowing apart at the seams. She had no freaking clue idea what to do with this.

A whining tug had her face snap down to where the wolf-dog was trying to pull her into the house by an exacting nip on the hem of her flannel shirt.

_His_ shirt.

With a final look over her shoulder at frozen terrain and an ice-white sky, Bella turned back to the house.

_His_ house.

With a pleased chuff, Seth scampered back into the cabin, dancing with a ginger list on his injured side. Another sharp burst of wind had Bella gasping from the cold and turning to throw her weight into closing the door. She had half a mind to lock it.

The wind howled around the cabin, making the windows shake, but inside was a haven. The cold sterile air dissolved in a tumbling rush of moist warmth and scent. Coffee, wood smoke, a wild gamey must, salt and savory – it smelled like home.

_His_ home.

Biting her lip harder, she scanned the lodge again from this vantage point. With all the stained pine and muted earth-tones of homespun wools and furs, it looked cast in sepia. Amber light poured across the large room, joining the flickering firelight in softening the innate masculinity of rustica.

Beside her, sat that chair he'd used and a rack set into the wall hung with parkas and snowpants and other outside wear with several pairs of boots sitting at their feet.

Beyond that, the homey kitchen sported an old woodstove in the corner and a huge ceramic sink in the middle of cluttered counters and cabinets running under racks hung with pots and herbs and burlap sacks. The weathered oak table had four heavy chairs gathered around the coffee, dishes and two kerosene lamps scattered across it.

A rag rug was laid in the middle of the room and another long table strewn with anonymous supplies, several lanterns and gear ran behind the large couch set up in front of the hearth. End tables flanked it with a heavy worn leather easy chair that was angled toward the fire.

Large cabinets were built into the wall opposite the kitchen - some of the doors left open to show a jumble of tools and supplies - with a few scattered chests piled with animal pelts in front of them. Then the rumpled sleigh bed ran parallel to the wall under the slope of the vaulted ceiling. But what Bella hadn't been able to see from the bathroom doorway moments earlier was that beyond it, there was also a mirror nook built into that far corner.

And it was it was lined – floor to ceiling – with shelves of _books_.

Bella's lip popped free in surprise. Without a conscious thought in her head, her feet started moving toward it but the wet on her feet stopped her cold. Looking down she saw melting puddles of snow blown into the greyed wood just inside the door. Eyes returning to the library, she quickly pulled off her wet socks and then tiptoed through the rest of the water onto the rag rug as she continued toward the corner.

Seth trailed after her a few steps and then decided to break off and limp back to plop down in front of the fire. Bella barely noticed, as she walked in deadened disbelief toward the volumes set in neat row after row on the shelves.

She didn't know why she was so surprised – because, really, what else was there to do out here in the middle of nowhere? – but she would have never imagined that big bad, brash and absolutely baffling man as a reader.

Bella _loved_ to read.

She'd always been a bookworm, but over the last decade of declining sanity, she credited the habit for what little she had left. When life had become unbearable, she'd escape to the pages of whatever she could get her hands on.

Apparently Paul was much the same, because the titles that etched spines from the leather-bound classics to dog-eared paperbacks ranged from philosophy to non-fiction to novel.

And they were all arranged in meticulous alphabetical order.

Bewildered mouth hanging open, she stepped into the center of three walls of books and started scanning over the offerings. Kaufka, Arthur Conan Doyle, Heidegger, Noam Chomsky, Virginia Wolf, Sartre, Tom Clancy, Anne Rice… the list went on.

For some reason her eye snagged on a book about Inuit mythology. Gripping the shelving, she went up on her very tip-toes to pull it from the shelf.

Her palm absently dusted off the hard cover as she turned back to the room. She opened the book up to the table of contents and yellow pages that smelled musty. Scanning through the chapters her eyes caught on chapter seven.

In her attempts to dissuade Bella from venturing into them, Leah down in town had told her that these mountains were haunted by the _Amarok_, but she'd had no idea what that was and certainly wasn't going to ask for more nightmares. Yet all of chapter seven was apparently devoted to them.

The wind's howl outside was joined by a wolf and Bella shuddered and looked up to the snow being tossed against the windows as she closed the book and tucked it under her arm.

Seth picked his head up off his paws at the fire and she gave him a wobbly smile as she headed toward the fire. She couldn't believe where this road had taken her. What if the man never came back? It was a distinct possibility in this weather.

Worse yet, _what if he did_?

Blowing a breath from her cheeks, Bella crossed toward the popping crackle of comfort and warmth. Right now she needed to just take things second by second – she didn't have the strength for much else.

And what else was there, anyway?

Her clothes were hanging from a rack beside the fire and she absently fisted a hand in her jeans to find them still damp while her gaze scanned the mantle set into the wall of stone. There were several trinkets – carved animals, pottery, a small painting on a stretched canvas hide.

And a photograph in a brass frame.

Straightening, Bella reached up and carefully pulled it down so she could examine it. It was a faded original – fuzzy scratched sepia from probably the 30s – and was an image of a group of young friends who were all Inuit by the looks of it with dark skin and black hair gathered around a vintage car with smiles.

The girls had on simple dresses and the men the shirts and trousers typical of the era but they were all tall, towering a good head and shoulders above their girlfriends. There was a casual intimacy to the group that seemed at odds with the day: each man had their arm slung around a girl's shoulders with one man sitting on the hood, his arms propped on the woman in front of him.

It was a moment of captured camaraderie that made her smile. Usually people in these old pictures looked so dour.

Her eyes drifted over each face - trying to imagine how it must have been to be young back in this day – until they stopped cold on one of them. Off on the edges of the group, this man was stretched out on his side in a modern lounge across the top of the old car with a cheek propped on one fist.

She would have recognized that smirk anywhere.

Gasping, she pulled the photo closer, squinting at it with disbelieving eyes. His hair was different – in a long braid like several of both women and men - and he was clean shaven, but the face was plainly the spitting image of Paul's.

Bella squeezed her eyes closed and tried looking at the image anew, tilting it first one way and then the other. Even through the fuzzy quality of the photo it was clear the man had an identical build and facial features to the one who'd terrorized her today.

Her gaze zeroed in on those narrow eyes, staring at the camera from the shadow of his heavy brow. In context of his smiling friends, they looked cold and empty somehow. Haunted.

Biting her lip, she pulled the photo away, examining it from afar. _No, she was imagining things._

He was just a one of the gang – perhaps the scrapping black sheep of the group - though all the men looked like they could handle themselves in a fight.

But the resemblance was uncanny. She supposed it made sense that this was some kind of relative of Paul's because he'd definitely inherited that tough, cocky edge that came through even in a moment capture in emulsion.

_Father? Grandfather?_ Had this been the man who'd been killed? Or done the killing? Or was this family not connected with that story at all?

With a sniff, she shook her head and carefully replaced the picture in its spot on the mantle.

Stepping back, her eyes lingered a moment longer and then she promptly stooped and pulled another two logs from the pile by the hearth and put them onto the fire to pops and sparks. With another glance at the photo, she carefully skirted the bear rug (she didn't want to step on it) to retreat to the bathroom to get her bra and panties to hang with the rest of her clothes. She snagged her coffee on the way and took a sip to clear her palate.

With her underwear hung discreetly behind the shield of her jacket, she settled into the big leather chair with caffeine, sugar and a read and tried to leave her jumbled thoughts behind.

Taking a sip of now-tepid coffee, she opened the book on her lap, but two sets of eyes drew her gaze. Seth was staring at her from his paws.

So was the bear.

Wrinkling her nose, she pulled her knees up and turned sideways in the chair, but then her eyes fell on a set of eyes staring at her from the brass frame on the mantle. Huffing a laugh, she turned the other way toward the door and set the coffee in front of her on the flat arm.

And while the wind and wild howled outside and a fire crackled over Seth's snores beside her, Bella opened the book and got lost in Arctic dreams.

'

She was yanked from them by a sharp gust of wind.

Bella blinked open sleep-heavy lids to see the hulking silhouette of a man in the doorway set against red dusk, while Seth greeted him with excited chuffs. Adrenaline rushed through her veins like ice floes as she picked her head up off the back of the chair.

_How long had she been asleep? _

Obviously all of what had remained of the skimpy early-spring daylight in this part of the world. She blinked at the man who stepped across the threshold, white frosting his hair, eyebrows and scruff.

Seth was dancing around in front of him in a limping hop, but the man didn't even glance at the animal. Those intense, inscrutable eyes were trained on her like rifle-sights. Bella squeezed the open book between her chest and knees as she sat up a bit more.

He turned to close the door and she blinked in shock at the three huge rabbits that were dangling down his back, their ears held in his fist at his shoulder. He shut the door with a boom and the room was plunged into silence pockmarked only by the whining yelps of Seth's excitement.

"Lay down," Paul growled as he turned around, pushing the animal down on his belly with a heavy stare.

Seth licked his muzzle as he blinked up at him with flattened ears. The man jerked his chin toward the fireplace and the beast pushed up to his paws and obediently limped back toward Bella. He stopped off at her chair, pushing his nose into her lap and she petted his head soothingly.

"I said, lay down," the man hissed.

The dog's head whipped around and then he was trotting back to his place on the rug, tail between his legs.

Bella looked up at the man with a scowl even as her body curled tighter into a ball.

He hung his parka on the wall and then sat on the edge of the chair to work snowy boot laces free with one hand as he stared back at her with a face that was a smoking blank slate.

And he was, literally, smoking.

In the heat of the room, water rose in steam from his shoulders and head, the frost instantly melting from his face into tiny beads of water that made his skin look cast in bronze in the waning light outside.

Without a word (or expression) he kicked off one boot and then the other and then congealed up like a nightmare to that intimidating height. The scowl melted from her face as he slowly prowled toward her across the room.

Bella's breath caught in her throat as she watched him flow like heated mercury across the floor, all traces of the limp swallowed by slink. Apparently, it really _had_ been just a strain.

He held her gaze like he was challenging her to look away first – but she couldn't even if she had wanted to. She knew better than to take her eyes off a predator.

As he neared, his eyes started wandering, flitting over her body and then to the half-drunk cup and finally to the dwindling fire.

"You shouldn't let it burn this low," he sniffed disparagingly as he passed between her and the couch, so close his scent wafted over her. He smelled of sweat and snow and something wild.

" 'Pipes'll freeze."

Bella pressed her lips together, cowering unconsciously into the chair as he walked by. Her eyes snapped immediately to the poor animals hanging limply down his back, their snow-white fur matted from melting ice but not a drop of crimson to be found. She grimaced at their big hind paws bouncing against that fine derriere as he strode to the fire.

He squatted and threw the three carcasses onto the floor with sickening thump. Seth immediately perked up and shimmied closer on his belly, sniffing them intently. The man ignored him as he pulled logs from the pile and tossed them into the fire.

Bella's gaze darted up unconsciously to the photo and then back to the broad back of the man squatted in front of the fire and now poking logs into place with a poker from the rack. Turning halfway around, he brusquely ruffled the dog's fur and then grabbed up the hares by the ears, yanking them up as he stood. Like she wasn't even there, he strode toward the kitchen area with the beasts dangling at his side.

Somewhere between perturbed and pleased, Bella watched him amble around the table with that dangerous sway to his shoulders. He swept clutter out of the way and then threw them unceremoniously down with a wooden thud. She watched him collect dishes and then turn to the counter.

"You didn't eat?"

His gruff voice made her jump – he wasn't going to pretend like she didn't exist after all.

And she had no idea what to say… eat _what_?

Bella sat up a little more turning in the chair as she pulled the book from between her knees. Paul glanced over his shoulder when she didn't answer and Bella shook her head minutely.

He sniffed and turned back around rearranging things on the counter. "There's always oatcakes in the jar on the table," he murmured as he reached out and selected a knife from a butcher block holder on the counter.

He pulled free a wicked-looking blade and turned around. "I'll bet I can get more meat off _one_ of these rabbits than I could off your bones."

The words were both quiet and savage and made Bella feel suddenly like prey. Her eyes widened like… well, a scared rabbit's.

The man threw his head back with a laugh. It was a deep rich sound like ground coffee and chocolate but it didn't do much to soothe her sprinting heart. Still chuckling Paul grabbed up two metal bowls and then paced back to the table, ignoring her again.

Annoyed to say the least, Bella set the book down beside her and hugged her knees. "You killed them?" stating the obvious with a crack in her voice.

The man looked up from where he'd laid out his tools and was now holding a box of matches. His lips oozed up on one side and he struck a match as he crooned, "Killing soothes me."

_Killing, not hunting. Soothed, not relaxed._ His words buzzed in her ear.

Paul's eyes lingered in hers for a moment, watching her process all of it as he lifted the glass from one of the kerosene lamps and lit the wick before replacing it gain. Bella watched him repeat the task with the other lantern while she tried to get her bearings.

It was obvious he was about to butcher the things right in front of her… on his kitchen table. Was he trying to shock her or was he simply going about his life the way he would if she weren't there? Well either way, she wasn't up for watching.

But apparently the dog was.

Seth yowled and then stood to his feet, shaking briskly before trotting toward the kitchen.

Bella let her stiff legs slip down to the floor and then pushed up to stand. The cold wooden floor was shocking on her bare feet. He was right, the house had cooled down quite a bit – a fact that was currently being remedied by the roaring flames. She pulled the flannel shirt tighter around her as she turned to her clothes on the rack. It had been so warm earlier she'd actually unbuttoned it while she was reading.

She looked up to see the man make the first sweeping slice down the belly of one creature and quickly turned away to her clothes on the rack. They were now dry and stiff as she pulled them free of the wood bars trying _not_ to think of how they'd been taken off of her.

She was actually amazed she was taking all this so well. Maybe it was that she didn't really have a choice… and she was certainly used to having those taken away from her by now.

That thought made her angry though as she balled up her underwear in her jeans and sweatshirt. She'd come out here to be free and here, yet again, she was caught in a man's snare. Just like those poor rabbits.

She might as well throw herself on that table as next in line.

With a sigh, she turned and stared at the fire for a moment, watching the flames cheerfully gorge on fresh fuel. Her eyes darted up to that picture of smiling friends, her eyes studying that man again, and then she turned on her heel. She caught Paul watching her under his lashes before his gaze quickly fell to the deft strokes of his blade.

Like he was avoiding her eye.

Of course that just piqued her curiosity further.

She used to be a stubbornly curious little thing and trait was starting to seep up to the surface again. She suddenly decided that, even if she were trapped in another hopeless situation, she wasn't going to make the same mistakes as last time by giving her dignity away because she was afraid. What did she have to lose anyway?

Carefully tiptoeing around the bear rug she made her way toward the bathroom but stopped in line with the table. Averting her eyes from the gore on the table, her gaze swept over Seth - sitting at the man's heel like he was his best friend in the world - on up to where he was focused a little too intently on his task.

"Is that your father in the picture?" she asked flatly – trying to place whether it was he or his father who'd left only tweezable pieces.

Paul sniffed with a cant of his head but didn't look up from his butchery. "The photo's from _1934_."

"_Grand_father, then?"

"I guess," he grunted as a hand reached in and yanked out entrails like he was gutting a pumpkin.

With a squinting wince, she tried to ignore the magnificently disgusting distraction as she studied that profile. Whether it was that it was true that his father had actually killed his grandfather or not, there was something about this that made him distinctly uneasy.

And that vulnerability drew her like a flame.

"He looks a lot like you," she prodded.

Paul stopped, setting down the knife and bracing his hands on the table as he turned and looked at her with eyes that were wry and canny and knew exactly what she was doing. "I think that's called _genetics_, princess," he bit out.

Ignoring the bratty epithet, Bella nodded, but brazenly searched his face for that sore spot.

And suddenly she could see it was really more one big bruise. It made her sad to see suffering and Bella had always been myopically driven to fix it. Maybe he was afraid he'd be just like his father?

"Genetics is only part of who you are," she whispered.

Those eyes darted between hers sharply and then his face congealed into a patronizing smirk, like she was a child who thought she was being clever.

In a second flat, Bella went from compassion to contemplating a punch.

Holding her gaze he picked up that fistful of guts with theatrics that made them dangle like a prize before he plopped them in one of the bowls with a juicy slosh.

Picking it up, he enunciated the words emphatically like a taunt, "_Here you go, boy_."

Seth's face was buried in the bowl as soon as it was in reach. Watching her smugly, he set it on the floor to the sounds of slurping chomps.

If Bella _had_ eaten anything that day it would be spewing all over the floor right now.

Her empty stomach tried to lurch up her throat anyway and she clapped a hand over her mouth to hold it back as she turned and fled to the bathroom. Paul's deep chuckles followed on her heels as she ripped open the only door in the house to the toilet and slammed it behind her. She leaned against it, flopping her head back and watching her breath billow in the cold room.

He was freaking_ infuriating. _

And savage and gorgeous and pitiful and mysterious… and why wasn't she more frightened of him than she was?

There were certainly pockets of pure panic, but – whether it was the he'd brought her firewood, saved her from a maimed wolf, or simply had left her unmolested when a monster would have had his way – she couldn't seem to make it stick.

And that _right there_ made him terrifying.

Bella was used to the beastly black and white. She flopped her head to the side and stared out the window into the falling dusk. Light was getting sucked down by the horizon so fast that she wouldn't be able to see her hand in front of her face in about 10 more minutes.

And she used every last one of them.

She stripped and got dressed in jeans, long underwear, her flannel and sweatshirt as fast as she could in the cold room. Then she stared out over the darkening snow, her racing thoughts slipping and sliding and going nowhere like a hamster on wheel.

When she'd shivered for as long as she could stand in the pitch black room, clutching his clothes to her chest, she finally opened the door.

Warm amber light and moist heat billowed over her making her blink at the abrupt change.

Through the doorway she could just see Paul squatting in the kitchen beside the wood stove, shoving logs into its roaring belly. Clutching the clothes tighter, she crossed the bathroom, clenching her jaw over chattering teeth.

Thankfully the table was now cleared of the gore but Seth was still licking a metal bowl, his tongue pushing the thing across the floor with a rattle. But as she stepped into the living room, he looked up, his tail raising like a wagging flag, and he turned and limped toward her with a cheerful lolling tongue.

Bella froze in horror.

"Seth," Paul barked.

The dog stopped in his tracks, whipping around and sitting at alert attention – in less than a day the man had him trained better than freaking Cesar Millan.

Closing the stove door with a metal bang, Paul stood and grabbed a rag off the counter. "Come," he snapped and the beast obediently trotted over to sit down in front of him.

Bella watched him wet the rag from the sink and then roughly towel off the dog's muzzle while his tail swished happily back and forth on the floor.

"Okay," he gave the beast another gruff ruffle as he straightened, looking up with a devilish grin. "Go give her a kiss."

Seth immediately jumped to the task, exuberantly loping toward her. Bella squeezed her eyes closed with a squeak. But that sun was irrepressible and the animal was big enough to stretch his muzzle to her shoulder. Scrunching up her face, she kept turning her back into his snuffling greeting.

"Enough," a deep voice commanded.

With a final nuzzle, the beast paced a few steps toward Paul and then padded back to his place at the fire to curl up on the poor bear.

Bella looked up to the man tossing the towel over his shoulder. "Did you have to feed him that?" she wrinkled her nose.

The man rolled his eyes and then strode toward the table and picked up the other metal bowl piled with meat. "We use nose to tail, princess," he sniffed setting the meat on the counter. "Usually that's sausage. He's a lucky dog."

Bella grimaced.

Paul leaned his hip against the counter with a sneer. "I guess it's not as civilized as fucking cocoa and cup o' noodles."

Bella scowled. "How did you-…?" she stopped herself.

She didn't want to know how he knew that's what she'd been surviving on for the last four days. She was going with _coincidence_ because thinking about him spying on her was just too-… too-…

The man's lips spread in a caustic smile and then he pulled a sponge out of the sink. Unnerved, Bella hunched her shoulders and headed for the fire. She was freezing.

"Throw those in the pile by the bed," he called out after her.

Bella glanced over her shoulder to see him wiping down the table… but he wasn't using bleach so she didn't see how it counted. With a huff, she skirted the rug and obliged anyway, tossing his clothes in the small pile of laundry.

She turned back to the room uncomfortably.

Paul was still wiping down the table with deft swipes of his hand that made his shoulder roll. With the homey kitchen lit by the soft flickering light of the lanterns as backdrop there was something intimate about the scene – like getting a peek into the little private bubble of a stranger's life.

A lonely stranger.

She walked slowly back to the fire, her arms winding around her middle, feeling like she was intruding somehow.

Paul turned around to the counter and Bella watched him move fluently through the motions of rinsing the sponge and then the rag in the sink. She liked the way he moved – all contained strength and male efficiency. But there was also a softness too, like he was fully in the moment and relishing each task instead of wishing it were over.

Feeling like a voyeur, Bella forced her gaze to the big half-wolf, curled happily by the crackling flames. With a wary glance at the bear rug, she knelt between the hearth and the sea of fur, stretching her hands out to the rolling heat. Out of her periphery she saw Paul going about his work in the kitchen as if both she and Seth simply weren't here.

Usually they _weren't_.

She thought about how his life must be up here in the mountains, butchering animals, doing chores, reading his books without even the comfort of a dog's companionship. It was sad to think of him all alone up here. Maybe when the snows melted and she returned to town, she would leave Seth behind. He certainly seemed comfortable.

The dog shuffled hallway across the rug and rested his big head beside her thigh. As gross as it was to think of his last meal, Bella couldn't resist threading her fingers through his fur.

He heaved a big wolfy sigh and closed his eyes in sheer bliss. Bella smiled and scratched that spot behind his ears – he was such a sweet animal that she couldn't begrudge him a meal of gourmet guts if it made him so happy. Who was she to judge, anyway? And being a practical kind of girl, she appreciated the sustainable sentiment of using everything. The affluent, throw-away culture she'd just escaped from had been a much uglier thing.

The light in the room seemed to careen on its ear and Bella's face snapped up to see Paul carrying one of the lanterns to the far corner of counter by the bathroom. She watched him disappear through the doorway without a word or glance.

Half a minute later a splash joined the sounds of roaring wind and fireplace.

And Bella froze.

He was taking a _cold_ bath?

In the _same_ water?

_Naked_? (Sadly it was this piece of conjecture that knocked her out of orbit).

Her cheeks were already heated by the flames but that blush spread down over her chest to tumble in her tummy with butterflies… which soon migrated down between her legs.

The thought of him in the next room – with no door between them – naked and soaking in that big brass tub woke parts of her body that she didn't even know she had.

"God, you _pervert_," Bella whispered to herself as she stood and smeared her hands down her face. It did nothing for the deep-drill blush (or the uncomfortable pressure between her legs).

Flustered, she flapped her hands and headed back for her chair and the book. She pulled her feet up under her and opened the book in her lap, thumbing through pages and trying (vainly) to ignore the soft splashes coming from the bathroom.

She tried _so hard_ to return to the Inuit world of the demonic _Mahaha_, the gentle _Tuniit_, and lone _Amarok_ wolf, but all she could think of was a bulky muscular body, slickened with water and lamplight.

The splashing grew louder and then the sound of a shower whispered through the house like rain.

Bella bit her lip and blindly turned the page, just to remind herself that she was sitting in a chair with a book.

And _not_ watching a man tip his face under falling water that smoothed back that dark hair, and then drizzled in twisting rivulets down the railroad tracks of a broad back.

"Ugh," Bella slapped a hand over her face.

_God, what the hell was wrong with her?_

She'd never been the most sexualized of girls – even when she was younger – and after the last decade of puritanical control, abuse and degradation, sensuality was something stuffed so far down she'd forgotten about it completely.

The water abruptly silenced and Bella's face jerked up automatically before she thought better of it. She tucked both her chin and chagrinned eyes into the book as she listened to splashes echo in the bathroom and then silence.

Biting her lip, she tried to anchor buoyant eyes to words.

But when Paul strode out of that bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel around his hips that, with his height, only hit him mid-thigh… there was absolutely nothing she could do but stare.

_Holy-..._

With clothes tucked under one arm and the other hand pulling a brush though his shaggy hair, his eyes were idly unfocused as he prowled into the kitchen.

Each stride still had a covert coiling tension that made the muscles swim under skin of molten caramel. And the light of fire and lamp could do nothing but make love to that body, amber caressing powerful tone and form, lapping down powerful pecks to a rolling sea of abs. It licked a brawny bicep, sheathed in the stark stripes of a tribal tattoo sleeve, and then drooled over broad shoulders and down a muscled back to lave sinewy legs that took each step like a threat.

He bent over the stove and opened the door, checking the fire with a glance and the muscles slithered across broad shoulders like a bronze wave. His proportions were perfect and all that power was hung on a thick frame that made him a panther-sleek powerhouse instead of chunky hulk.

Bella was pretty sure something broke just looking at him… and maybe it was her sanity because she could not for the life of herself tear her gaze away.

Even when he straightened, turned around…

And looked her straight in the eye.

That face slipped into a knowing smile that hitched up his lips and the opposite brow as he pulled his brush languidly through his hair again.

Bella really wanted to scowl or look away or maybe just close her mouth, but she didn't even have the bandwidth to breathe. Only her heart seemed immune and was doing wind sprints.

" 'You okay over there, little girl?" he crooned, his voice trolling the velvet deep.

It was _just aggravating_ enough that Bella was able to rip her eyes away. She dropped them onto yellowed pages as every drop of blood that wasn't throbbing between her legs climbed to pulse in her cheeks.

A low chuckle scurried over the sounds of snapping fire and Bella squeezed her eyes closed, mortified. She drew a shaking breath into neglected lungs and released it in a defeated sigh.

She was a hopeless mess.

The crisp sound of metal on glass popped them open again as she turned to find that gorgeous body, mere feet away, at the table behind the couch with the cover of one of the lanterns in his hand.

His eyes were on _her_ though as with a snick and the smell of sulfur he struck a match.

The light flared over his face making his expression look dark and deadly. All traces of that smile had evaporated, leaving nothing but decadent intensity… double-timed. That one tattooed sleeve prowled up across his pec into the stylized head of a beast that was staring at her like it was just waiting to devour the scraps he left behind.

Paul lit the wick of the lamp and then shook the match out and the flame danced between them, licking up his chest to throw his face into a different light. He looked clever and hungry and very dangerous – a predator who was calculating a strike.

Bella licked her lips as her gaze fell back to pages that were much simpler… if she'd been able to read. Even the most basic use of language seemed to have been pushed out by the rapid flap of shallow breath.

"You're okay."

His whisper was so soft she wasn't sure she hadn't imagined it and she instinctively looked up to check. She found him staring at her from under that heavy brow while his hand held out the brush.

Swallowing thickness from the back of her throat, Bella reached out a hand that wanted to shake but was too rigamortis stiff. Watching her, he placed the handle of the brush in her hand, waiting for numb fingers to grip the handle before he released it to her grasp.

Still she nearly dropped it as she quickly pulled it back to her lap.

It looked like a mask had been dropped over his face – abruptly that naked intensity was usurped by sass, and his mouth oozed up into that smirk that made her want to throw the brush in his face. She scowled and sullenly stared into the kitchen… and pointedly _not_ at that body that was begging for her eye.

He barked that deep belly laugh and Bella puckered with annoyance as he picked up his clothes off the table and then ambled toward his bed. Huffing a breath through her nose, she stubbornly stared ahead for a moment, trying to gather what dignity she had left.

Apparently she was bankrupt.

Her eyes couldn't help but be drawn to the reflection in the kitchen window where a towel was being pulled from a man's hips. Her eyes greedily gobbled up a glimpse of that amazing ass before she forced them closed.

He was so incredibly-… No _she_ was so incredibly-…

_Ugh._

Clenching her jaw she opened her eyes and pulled her hair over her shoulder and started brushing through it with angry strokes. It _was_ a complete rat's nest. She'd tried to comb through it as best she could with her fingers, but the natural curl combined with the heat of the fire made for a nightmare.

However, the muscular memory of habit started to center her, and soon she was working the horse-hair bristles more calmly through her curls. It came down nearly to her waist now because _he_ liked it long. She'd intended to cut it when she ran, but hadn't dared stopped long enough to even breathe. Maybe she'd ask Mr. _Ass & Attitude_ if he had a pair of shears.

As she brushed through hair that was drier than usual, she began to think about how it had been washed with soap instead of shampoo… by someone who _wasn't_ her. Her subconscious obviously wanting to reclaim some dignity, she hadn't fully decided to call him on it when the words popped over her lips:

"Did you _wash my hair_?" she called out to the room.

For a few seconds the fire popped on, over the sound of Seth's soft snores, and she thought maybe she'd actually hit a vulnerable vein. Her eyes darted up to the window pane to see a man pulling jeans up long thick legs. She quickly looked away again.

" 'Shouldn't ask questions when you already know the answer," came the reply, casually flung out with a curve from what sounded like a smile.

Thoughtlessly, Bella turned over her shoulder with a scowl.

Paul was standing by his bed facing her while he buttoned up his fly… indeed with that cocky half-smile on his lips.

Even though her eyes wanted wander over that chest, she wasn't going to let him derail her this time. "Why," she demanded.

He tipped his head as that smirk deepened. "Or when you're not ready to hear the answer either," he murmured.

Bella narrowed her eyes. "_Why_?"

His face cracked in a smile that showed a sliver of teeth and then he pulled a flannel shirt from the bed. He held her gaze while he slipped one arm in and then the other with slow, calculated movements that made his tattoo pounce over his rippling chest.

Bella turned back around before she could get hypnotized again and stared at the opposite wall. Her answer came with each word cut clearly and slowly out of dusky felt:

"Because… I… _wanted…_ to."

Bella snorted loudly, closing the book and hugging it to her chest. That outrageous audacity lit a burst of fire in her gut.

"Do you always do what you want?" she disparaged.

For several moments he didn't answer… so long, actually, that she thought maybe he wouldn't. A gust of wind outside howled around the house, shaking the windows and making smoke poof from the hearth.

Then, abruptly, the chair dipped.

Bella jumped up straight as two hands slid to either side of her as his elbows were propped on the back. She could _feel_ his heat as he leaned into to the side of her head, so close his scruff caught in her hair. With her locks pulled over the other shoulder, his breath was warm and wanton over her skin. Bella didn't dare move a muscle as he sniffed indulgently, drawing cool air over her scalp.

"Mm," he hummed quietly, more a rumble in his chest.

A shiver shimmied down her belly and into her crotch, making it throb.

His voice was rich, warm and dusky as it poured into her ear, "Do you think I'm doing what I want right now?"

She hated this control he had over her body… and how freely he used. It wasn't fair.

"Yes," she bit out.

His sniff bottomed out in a chuckle. "Not even close, princess."

And then he pushed off the chair. It rocked and sighed with the release of that weight.

Bella squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, trying to rein in her rioting body. When she opened them again, Paul was ambling toward the kitchen, his hands buttoning up his shirt.

Drawing in a silent breath, Bella watched him, wondering where in the freaking hell to start with this.

" 'You know how to use a knife?" he called over his shoulder.

Bella blinked, her mouth grimacing at all the gross possibilities if she said yes.

Paul crossed to the counter and then squatted down to a cabinet and opened it. "I need to slice some vegetables," he continued casually as he pulled several items into his hands.

_Vegetables? She could do vegetables. _

"Yeah," she mumbled as she set the book down beside her and pushed out of the chair.

Bella took a steeling breath and shimmied between the chair and couch, rubbing her hands on her jeans as she made her way toward where Paul was now washing something in the sink.

She drifted uncertainly toward the table and he turned and placed several potatoes down on the wood. He returned to the sink and to wash something else as she stared numbly at the potatoes glistening in the lamp light like wet stones. Her finger idly traced a knot in the wood and then she looked up as he carried several carrots and onions in big hands and set them down in the middle of the table too. He turned back to the kitchen, his pace unhurried and relaxed like he'd forgotten she was there and whether it was intentional or not, it gave her the space to settle.

He came back with the lamp from the counter in one hand and two knives and cutting boards held facilely in the other with a bowl crooked against his chest. Bella's eyes darted to the rabbit flesh piled in it uneasily. Setting the lamp on the table, he put the bowl on his side and then scooted a knife and thin plastic board toward her.

"Cut 'em in chunks for stew," he murmured and then turned away.

Bella watched him head to stove and hover a hand over it like he was testing the temperature before he pulled down a large metal pot and set it on the black iron top.

Raking all the vegetables toward her she set up on the far corner of the table, closest to the fire. Paul came back with a big silver bowl… the same one Seth had used. Bella wrinkled her nose at the thought as she tugged it toward her.

"I washed it," he coughed a laugh.

Bella nodded absently, not wanting to meet his eyes just yet, and pulled the first carrot onto the board. She usually peeled her carrots - but she also usually washed her hands and she wasn't going to pass anywhere near him - so she picked up the knife. The blade was razor sharp and she was thrilled that it cut through the thick vegetable so breezily.

She quickly slipped into the soothing fluent rat-a-tat of chopping, letting her mind idly wander. Her father used to tease that she was a Cuisinart because she was so fast. Her mother had been a professional chef before they'd lost her to cancer when Bella was young and cooking had lived on as her favorite hobby.

But she barely did it any more – her husband had insisted on paying a cook because it was "beneath his wife to do menial labor." It hadn't started out that way. Being so fanatical about weight and looks (like he was everything), he wasn't much of an eater. But he'd faked it well enough when he'd wooed her.

He'd been so different.

In that respect, there was something kind of refreshing about Paul's brash brass – even if it was chafing too. Oh, he was definitely playing games (and boy, was he racking up wins) … but he also wasn't trying to hide it.

Bella scooped up the first two carrots from the board, now in neat disks, and emptied them into the bowl with a soft jangle. Her eyes darted across to the middle of the table to where the man was cutting filets of bloody flesh into cubes.

And it slapped her across the face: _they were preparing a meal together_. Strangely, it was somehow more _intimate_ than anything she'd ever done with a man.

Paul pushed the cubes to the side with a knife and then pulled out another strip of flesh. He glanced at her out of the corner of his lashes.

Bella decided to try a novel concept: conversation.

"Do you like to cook?" she asked with a raise of her brow as she pulled the next carrot into place.

His mouth kicked up on one side. "I like to _eat_."

Bella smothered her smile and returned to her carrot. "But do you _like_ it?" she asked after a few chops. "Like a hobby?" She looked back up.

" 'Don't really have time for hobbies," he sniffed, lifting his hand and brandishing his knife in a casually vicious circle of the room. "I'm more what you'd call, _practical_."

Bella coughed a private laugh as her eyes fell to the cutting board. "Among other things," she muttered under her breath.

"Like what?"

Bella looked up to see smirking challenge painted on his face.

"You shouldn't ask questions if you're not ready to hear the answer," she quoted him with a saccharine smile.

He threw his head back and laughed and Bella couldn't help but giggle herself. It felt amazingly cathartic.

With a smile still on her face she continued on her chopping. She caught him glancing at her a few times but kept her eyes on her work, facilely finishing the carrots and starting in on the onions. She deftly chopped the tops off both.

"Do you like to cook?" Paul asked quietly.

Bella glanced up to see his chin tucked in counterfeit focus – he was a little uncertain about this conversation thing too. Bella sniffed a laugh at them both.

"Used to," she sighed as she peeled the skin off an onion.

"Used to?" he stopped and looked at her.

Bella glanced quickly at him from under her lashes as she felt her shoulders round. She nodded once.

In her periphery she watched him study her for a few more moments before he went back to slicing meat. Bella finished with the peels of both onions.

"Chunks or rings?" she asked, her knife poised over one.

"Chunks," he answered without a pause in his knife's rhythm.

Bella started butchering the onion with strokes that were good for letting off a little of that suppressed steam.

"So what else did you _used to_ like?"

Paul's question was twisted with sarcasm, but a glance told her he it was more that he was still feeling weird with the whole talking-like-a-normal-human-being thing.

Bella kept chopping. "Well, I've always been a bookworm," she raised her brow at her onion. "And reading's still number one on the list."

A violent shrieking gust of wind buffeted the house, making it groan. Bella looked up sharply as the chimney smoked again as Seth lifted his head from the rug. She turned to where Paul hadn't flinched but just was just casually slicing off cubes. He was nearing the bottom of his bowl.

"So you like to read too?" she asked.

He looked up with a subtle flare of nostrils. "No."

Bella blinked at him for a moment before his devilish chuckle made his shoulders jiggle and he returned to his cutting. He was teasing her – _obviously_ – but there was more to it than that. This hobby just might have been something he'd kept to himself… it certainly wasn't par for that cocky macho course.

Smirking to herself, she dumped the onion into the bowl and pulled a potato across the table. His vulnerability was simply irresistible, but she tried to tread lightly.

"So why do you alphabetize them by title instead of author," she asked quietly, keeping her eyes on her knife.

She heard him shift, a quick subtle jerk on his feet that emphasized how steady his stance had been up until then. Bella pulled her lip into her mouth and suckled quietly as she sliced the potato and then quartered it.

Paul cleared his throat. " 'Cause what's said's more important than who says it," he murmured.

It was so simple and profound that Bella couldn't help her that her hand froze mid-chop. She saw him glance at her but ignored him and started chopping again. Intuitively she knew a telling him so would just be more uncomfortable

"Well you've got an awesome collection," she continued lightly. "I was reading that Inuit mythology book because the woman at the store said these mountains were haunted by the _Amarok_," she began as she dumped the potato chunks in the bowl. According to the book, the _Amarok_ was a huge lone wolf who terrorized the Inuit and killed anyone foolish enough to hunt at night.

It sounded familiar.

"Do you think that grey wolf's the _Amarok_?" she asked looking up with a furrow to her brow.

Paul shrugged a dismissive shoulder as he set the knife down. "Those aren't my stories," he gave her a cocky smile as he reached across the table with a long arm and snatched the bowl.

Bella watched him turn toward the stove. "What do you mean?"

"I'm _not Inuit_, princess," he tossed that fact tiredly over his should like she was an idiot.

Bella certainly felt like one. She returned to her chopping as she watched him pour oil into the large pot and then toss in the bowl of vegetables. They sizzled and hissed. Paul grabbed a wooden spoon from a crock. His back to her, he stirred the pot with brusque strokes that made a savory scents waft through the air. Bella's stomach growled.

She was just thinking she'd insulted him into silence when he continued. "My people were the Quileute from the pacific coast," he told her flatly as he stirred one last time and then tapped the spoon on the metal edge. He turned around with a wry smile that was more patronizing than offended. "We have different stories, but all of them are bullshit too."

Bella pressed her lips together as she considered him with new eyes. She could see the differences now clearly: though his coloring was similar, his features were harsher and deeper than the Inuit she'd met. She decided to return to safer territory where she'd be less likely to put her foot in her mouth.

"But have you seen that grey wolf before?" she returned to her chopping with an awed shake of her head. "I mean, he was _huge_. Wolves aren't usually that big, are they?"

Paul brusquely deposited the empty bowl on the table beside her and it rolled on its edge with a slow jangle.

Bella looked up to sharp eyes and a smirky little smile. " 'Never seen 'em."

"He wasn't there when you found me?" she frowned.

Holding her gaze he slowly shook his head.

"Really?" Bella whispered.

"No, I'm _lying_," he snorted sarcastically as he returned to his place. He picked up his knife and stared at her for a moment. "Of _course_ he wasn't – otherwise you wouldn't be here," he scoffed. "You gotta be _real_ fucking stupid to approach a wounded wolf, princess. I'd have left you in the snow."

The comment stung and Bella's eyes dropped to her cutting board. She pulled her lip into her mouth and started on the potato again.

"What were you trying to do anyway?" Paul coughed a laugh as he picked up the knife and started cubing meat with harsh chops. "_Save_ him?"

Bella looked up from under her lashes. Paul was watching her out of the corner of his eye with a private smile.

Annoyed that he got to her so easily, she set her jaw and lifted her chin. "Yes."

He chuckled at her expression as his gaze returned to his hands. "You can't save an animal from itself," he shook his head slowly as he continued that rough chopping. "If that wolf was fool enough to come that far down the mountain he deserved what he got. You shoulda just let him chew his fucking leg off."

Bella frowned as she dumped the potato in the bowl. He made her furious with all his cocky patronizing crap. "So," she crimped a tight smile as she reached for another potato and chopped it viciously in half. "Other than reading and being _a total freaking jerk_, what else do you like to do?"

Paul laughed – it was such a rich deep sound that she felt it in her bones. She hated that she liked it even when it was at her expense.

"Gotta watch that language, little girl."

She narrowed her eyes at his shit-eating grin as he set down his knife.

"Welp, lessee," he scooped a pile of flesh into his palms and dumped it back in the bowl. Then he braced bloody hands on the table as his eyes swept up to the ceiling with theatrical contemplation.

"Oh yeah," he looked back down at her with the devil smoldering in his eyes. "In _descending_ order," he added as he held up a splayed hand.

"Sleeping…" he tucked his pinky under his thumb as he counted down. "Eating..." he curled another finger under. "Killing_…" _he murmured absently, making the admission even more shocking.

"And number one," Paul held up the last finger as his lips spread in a leer. "_Sex_."

Bella could really do nothing but stare as blood rushed to her cheeks.

Chuckling, Paul scooped up another palmful of meat and dumped it while watched her and that leer turned infuriatingly gratified. He absently picked up a lingering chunk on the cutting board and popped it in his mouth.

Bella's body jerked in shock and her eyes blinked wide.

But oddly, so did his.

For a second they stared at each other, Paul frozen looking like he didn't know whether to spit or swallow. His eyes quickly fell to the table under the pretense of scavenging the rest of the pieces from the board as he started chewing slowly.

_Uncomfortably. _

It was the same look he'd gotten when she'd asked him about the books. Grossed out and confused off her ass, she wasn't sure what to do – did he usually eat it raw or had he forgotten what he was cutting?

Clearing her throat, Bella returned her gaze to the potato and started chopping again and he wordlessly turned with the bowl. Seconds later hisses and pops rose from the pot on the stove as he dumped it in.

Bella kept her chin tucked and focused on finishing the potatoes while her mind flailed like it was drowning. His arrogance, ferocity, crudeness… brazen sexuality. She didn't know what to do with any of it. She was so disoriented at the moment that all she could do was keep putting one foot in front of the other. And at least try to be kind.

The savory scents wafting through the house now were making her stomach clench painfully. She had been worried about how she could politely refuse eating a bunny but right now she was wondering if she'd have to. Whatever he was doing at the stove, it smelled delicious.

Picking up the bowl of potatoes, she walked hesitantly toward where Paul was reaching for a dried bunch of herbs from the rack. He stepped back to the stove and crushed some leaves into the pot and then tossed the bundle back on the counter.

Approaching him from behind made her stomach knot in an entirely different way from the hunger – he was huge. She gave him a wide berth as she stepped up to one side of the wood stove.

He glanced at her as he stirred the pot of stew and he'd obviously recovered from whatever had gone on back at the table because that wry smile was back in full force.

He tapped the spoon on the edge of the pot. "Dump it in."

Of course, that meant getting closer to him. Pressing her lips together she sidled along the stove.

Paul didn't move.

Stepping right up to his side and inches from touching him, she still couldn't reach the tall pot, shrimp that she was. She looked up into those sly eyes and aggravation exploded in a sloppy mess.

"_Excuse me_," she ground out.

"Of _course_," his whisper dripped with sarcasm as he took a step back.

Flicking vexed eyes up, she stepped in between his big body and the stove.

And sandwiched between two types of heat and two delicious scents, she stood on tiptoes and carefully emptied the potatoes into the pot. She could hear his breath, slow and deep, as it whispered over her hair. Unnerved, she scraped out the starchy pieces stuck to the metal and hastily stepped back… tripping on his foot and falling into him.

A big hand steadied her at her waist, burning through the three layers of clothes like an ember.

"Easy there, little girl," his low murmur was right near her ear.

Bella spun around and out of his embrace.

He let her go easily. "You're a clumsy little thing, aren't you?" he smirked.

With a scoff that was mostly for show, Bella skirted around him and headed for the sink (paying extra attention to her feet because it he'd just figured out what everyone knew: she _was_ a hopeless clutz). Paul chuckled lowly and went back to stirring the pot.

He really was _incorrigible_. And intense and savage and confusing and… _gorgeous_.

And he smelled good.

_God help her, she was a freaking mess._

She tossed the bowl into a sink that was half-full of soapy water already and, with a sigh, she tried to roll up her sleeves. It was near impossible in three layers.

Throwing a glance at the man who was still stirring the pot on the stove, she turned toward the table and pulled her hoodie up over her head. It brought the flannel and long underwear shirts up with it a little and she felt the comparatively cool air across the small of her back. She yanked the sweatshirt over her head and then pulled out of the sleeves and tossed it on a chair at the table. Then shrugged back into both shirts, tugging them down as she turned around.

To find Paul watching her.

A hip against the counter, one foot was propped over the other like he was enjoying the show. His expression morphed from unreadable to wry in a heartbeat and Bella scowled.

"I didn't say I wouldn't _look_," he chuckled as he lazily pushed off the counter, nimbly twirling the wooden spoon through the fingers of one hand.

Eyes narrowed in indignation (nothing new), Bella tugged her shirt down a little more and then started unbuttoning her sleeves.

"But you were looking too, weren't you?" he crooned as his lips slung into a smile, catching the spoon in a contrasting steel trap snap.

"You're _really_ annoying," Bella spat, brusquely rolling up her flannel.

"Among other things?" he quipped, quoting her with a canny lift of his brow.

"_Believe_ me, the freaking list is getting longer," Bella sniped, as she rolled up the other sleeve.

"Oh, the little one has a _temper_…" he chuckled, as his head tilted to a patronizing side.

"Yeah, so don't push it," Bella glared at him as she shoved up the long underwear sleeves and stomped back to the sink. He watched her for a second with that maddening smirk before he turned back to the stew… that was starting to smell amazing by the way.

Like a culinary hobby and a bunch of other things, a temper was something she used to have too. She'd lost so much of herself over these last years but if there was anyone who could help her find that particular part again, she was pretty damn sure it was this man.

Cutting her eyes over at him at the stove, she tried to let it go and turn to the dishes. She reached for a loofah-like sponge and started scrubbing the bowl as she looked up out of the dark window. Snow was plastered against the glass like that fake spray they used at Christmas when she was little.

She set the soapy bowl on one side of the counter and then shoved her sleeves up a little more and fished around in the murky water. Her grandmother used to do dishes like this – washed everything first and then rinsed at the same time to conserve water. She guessed it was probably how he did it too.

She picked up a cup and froze as a muscled forearm slid into view on first one side… and then the other. Automatically cowering into the counter and pulling her elbows into her sides, her eyes snapped up to the reflection in the window of the man towering behind her. His eyes were shadowed by that heavy brow, his face tipped down toward her.

A soft splash made her gaze fall down to where Paul had thrust both hands into the soapy water and was leisurely swishing them like she was no more than his button-cam. She was pressed so firmly into the cabinet and he was so freakishly huge, that his body wasn't touching hers, but his heat wrapped her up like a blanket.

His heat… his scent.

_Oh God_, wood smoke, pine forests, soap. And male.

He reached for the amber homemade bar on the far side of the sink and his chest brushed against the back of her head. Bella gripped the cup held in numb hands even harder, fighting the instinct to lean back into that strength.

Biting her lip down to pain, she watched his hands move with a grace that was at odds with their size and long thick fingers, stubbed out to nails work-worn down to the quick. There was almost a tenderness to the way he worked the soap between his palms. He set the bar back down, pushing into her again as he did, but Bella was too mesmerized to notice.

In slow motion, he rubbed the suds over his hands, turning them one over another, in a languid liquid caress that was undeniably sensual. That knot in Bella's stomach melted into heat that oozed its viscous way down, into her womb.

His fingers laced and then slipped apart, one palm smoothing over his knuckles and up that thick muscled forearm. Soap bubbles cowlicked the dark hairs peppered over caramel.

How would that touch feel on _her_ skin? How would _that_ _skin_ feel under the pads of her fingers… or the scrape of her nails?

But that's _exactly_ what he wanted her consider, wasn't it? Bella blinked soundly out of her trance and looked up into the window.

Paul was watching her face in the reflection and their eyes locked. Even reflected off the frosted glass, the intensity of the moment took her breath away and for an instant everything disappeared.

That hulking body, backlit by the licking lamplight like a halo, the heady musk of his heat and scent, the soft sounds of slick slipping flesh…

"What are you doing?" Bella heard her rasping whisper.

That mouth flowed into a subtle smile as his eyes left hers and he bent slowly down to the side of her head. She felt his bass stretch out in a murmur that caught in her hair, "Washing my hands."

Bella's eyes darted away from the image of his body curved down over hers and back to those hands. One rubbed with same sumptuous pace up the other arm and then stretched slowly for the faucet. His reach pushed his chest into her again and chills spilled down her spine.

"And pushing," he breathed, right beside her ear.

Bella snapped her eyes close as the sound of water poured into the sink.

"I like to push things."

Bella's eyes blinked open to see him running his forearm under the stream of water. "No," she hissed, gathering her strength to break her way out.

But, like he'd somehow anticipated the move, his body was orbiting with her - his arm seamlessly lifting as he folded away just enough for her to spin free without a brush.

Having expected resistance, Bella stumbled with the unneeded force. That low bouncing chuckle made her whip around, her face a tangle of a million emotions competing for real estate.

Paul's lips were hitched up on one side, his body angled away from the sink as he continued to casually rinse a forearm.

Her intended bark was more of a wheeze, "_I can't do this_."

"Do what?" Paul cocked a brow against the tilt of his mouth.

Bella was backing up, putting distance between them.

She didn't even know what which way was up – she was such a tumbling mess of fury, confusion and-… and _other things_ that she couldn't even think straight. Over the years she'd perfected the art of calculated control – avoiding anger, anticipating whims, cowing in submission – and she had no idea what to do with all these… _feelings_.

Her hand found the table and gripped it for dear life. "I can't do _this_-…" she waved the other between them.

Holding her gaze and his smile, Paul dragged a towel from the hook over the sink as he turned all the way around and leaned his hips back against it.

"I need a little more to go on." That smile grew deeper with an arch of his brow.

"_This_-…" she huffed, far too discombobulated for coherence. "The-… the _chair_," she gestured wildly behind her. "Walking around _naked_… the _bath_ thing. You _washed my hair_!"

"It needed it," his lips spread in a full-on grin.

Bella hacked disgust from the back of her throat, as her eyes darted off to the side to try to regroup. She shook her head in disbelief as her gaze returned to where Paul was tossing the towel over his shoulder. He folded his hands in front of him and tipped his head the other way like she was some fascinating little novelty.

_He thought this was funny, did he?_

Her eyes narrowed. "I want you to stop with all the-…" her tongue tripped against her teeth so she tried again. "All the _freaking_ _lame_ _seduction_."

Both brows jumped for his hairline as he coughed a laugh of pure incredulity. "You think I'm trying to _seduce_ you?"

His reaction stopped her cold.

Bella's gaze darted between those chortling eyes. She'd worn clean through the vinyl on the broken record of self-doubt over years, but apparently the tune was still playing.

"You-… you're n-not-…?"

His expression settled back down into sly. "_Believe_ me, princess," he crooned. "You'd know it if I was."

Bella licked her lips, suddenly feeling like she was going to cry. "So w-what is-…" a tentative finger wobbled feebly back and forth between them. "_This_?"

Intensity slipped over the humor like a velvet curtain as his hips slowly rocked off the counter.

The change was startling. Hand grounding herself on the table, she took a step back.

Chin tipped down subtly so he was staring at her from hooded eyes, his lips caressed each word in a whisper, "This, is an _invitation_."

Bella's stomach plummeted to her toes.

That smile reappeared but it was different. All civil pretenses had dropped away – it was wolfish and wry, the curve of hunger.

Casting a quick glance at the knives still resting too far to grab on the dirty end of the table, Bella took a step back.

Like he was connected by an invisible string, the man mimicked her with one forward. Jaw clenching, Bella's swallow crinkled in her ear as she took several hasty steps back.

This time he slunk slow and languid after her, stalking like he had all the time in the world to catch his prey.

Bella put the table between them, gripping the wood with clawed hands.

His next words were a smoky purr, "You've never been seduced, have you, little one?"

Bella bit her lip, just in case her heart actually made it up her throat. Fight or flight was running high, but oddly she wasn't terrified like she'd been with _him_. Maybe it was just that he hadn't hit her yet.

Or maybe it was those eyes.

They were dark and intense, making no attempts to disguise their hunger, but they _saw_ her. Somehow they saw _her_, not just his own reflection in her eyes.

Paul stopped on the other side of the table and Bella gripped the wood tighter feeling stupidly safer with the furniture between them. It was the lamest joke ever - she was pretty sure he could leap it or simply break it in half before she could spit.

Holding her hostage with those eyes, he slowly stretched toward her across the table, with the indulgent leisure of a cat. He idly walked his hands out until he settled on his elbows, first one then the other, then his hands wrapped around each one.

Bella took a step back, but her hands wouldn't leave the wood and Paul canted his head to the side as he studied her.

Bella couldn't help to do the same.

At eye-level now, he was only two feet away. Chin still tucked, the firelight caught in eyes flitting over her face under that heavy brow, making them look incandescent. A half smile was hung on lips that were broad and generous with a perfect cupid's bow nestled into a dark whiskers hovering somewhere between scruff and a beard. Her eyes washed over his those broad cheeks and a strong jaw lined with more of the same.

She'd always teased her handsome best friend about his looks, but there was nothing about this man that could be called anything close to beautiful. His features were fierce and feral, all chiseled power and dark sticky male.

Her eyes returned from their inventory to find him watching her with a million silent thoughts flickering in his eyes.

"If I was trying to seduce you, Bella?" he whispered. "I would start with words."

Bella's lashes dragged sluggishly as she tried to blink back to sentience.

His eyes caressed her face for a moment as little ticks jumped across his brow. "I'd tell you you're beautiful."

Bella's heart slammed painfully against her ribs, falling into stunned silence.

His head listed to the side as his eyes continued to dart over her face with a subtle wildness pulling at the pupils. Like he was speaking thoughts aloud, he murmured under his breath, "I'd tell you that I like the way you look. The way you smell…" he paused, the words evaporating on parted lips as he slowly canted his head the other way.

"And that I'm dying to know how you taste," he breathed and then bit his lip for a moment before his eyes returned to hers.

She stared back at him, paralyzed.

"And _then_," he whispered, shifting on the table as that wry smile hopped briefly into the corner of his mouth. "I'd tell you… what I want to do to you."

It was like he was speaking a foreign language that only her body could understand. And it was paying _rapt_ attention - her breath stalled and heartbeat whispered.

"I'd say…" he licked his lips so slowly Bella's eyes had to slip down and watch.

Full russet lips spoke to her, in a mesmerizing voice of sing-song velvet black: "I want to lay you on that soft, _soft_ fur in front of the fire and tear those clothes from that tiny little body. Strip after strip, while I lick over every inch of that milky skin. I want to suck all that honey off your mouth, your neck, your breasts… your _clit_."

He paused, with a soft breathy laugh that made her gaze dart up to firelight licking the hypnotic ebony. Bella was powerless to look away.

"Until you _beg_ me to shove my cock in you so deep, that you don't even have the breath to gasp my name," he arched a brow as that mouth spread in a predatory smile. "Which, by that time, princess, will be 'God.'"

Those eyes left hers and did several lazy laps of her face, each one making that smile deepen more. His gaze returned to hers and held her helpless, like a kitten picked up by the scruff of its neck.

"And when you're feeling just like you are right now," he whispered, enunciating each hypnotic word. "When you have no name... no shame... When you can't even blush because all the blood's rushed between your legs to wait for me…"

"Then I'd push off this fucking table." He slowly slid back like a serpent, still holding her breathless with those eyes until he was standing with his hands braced on the table. "I'd take you in my arms…and spend this long fucking northern night, doing all the things I promised and more."

His mouth oozed up slowly into a crooked smile as they stared at one another, for minutes or hours, Bella didn't know and couldn't care. Only the sounds of the storm and Seth's soft snores dared whisper a word between them.

Finally, Paul tipped his head to the side as firelight eyes were swallowed by black and wry. "_That's_ how I'd seduce you, princess," he sniffed a humorless laugh. "Not by washing my hands in a fucking sink."

He straightened and crossed his arms over his chest.

Bella drew in a shaking breath, holding onto the table for dear life. She felt weak in the knees and dizzy. Between her legs was so swollen it hurt with each heartbeat throb.

"But since you're not asking… _yet_," Paul smirked and motioned flippantly toward the chair. "I guess you'll be spending this long fucking night with a book of stupid native fairytales. _That_ sounds fun."

Bella's eyes sank heavily to the table, so confused and off-kilter she didn't know what to do. She felt like a victim of a terroristic body that she no longer understood.

"But keep your eye on the stew," Paul strode brusquely past her, his breeze fingering her hair. "I' got chores to do outside."

Blinking, Bella whipped over her shoulder to see him already standing by the chair while he shoved first one foot into his boot and then the other. Without tying the laces – or turning around – he grabbed his parka from the wall, yanked open the door, and disappeared into the driving snow.

The slam that followed him reverberated through the house.

Frozen to the spot, Bella numbly stared at the door, feeling like liquid nitrogen had been dumped over her head and every cell was withering. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself tightly.

A whine prefaced a snuffling nose rooting under her flannel and Bella looked down at Seth's big puppy dog eyes. She peeled a hand off her arm to pet him.

Digging her fingers into his thick shaggy ruff, she whispered, "I'm scared, Seth."

Because she was.

Of many things: the chasing past and dead-end future, failure and potential, pain and pleasure, husbands that were monsters and wild animal men.

But what terrified her most of all… was _feeling_ again.

And that's exactly what she was doing.

Collapsing her face into her palms, Bella slithered down to the floor and wept because sometimes wounds just needed to bleed. Seth worked his muzzle into her lap and whined while the wind joined in, wailing around the house.

And in the distance a long haunted howl climbed the night.

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Review if you like.


	3. Sleeping with the Dogs

So sorry for the delay and thanks for the patient encouragement. No one wants to hear the life/work stories that we all have but I simply mention things are crazy because this is a short update… for _me. _Lol But I got it here, right?

Still a very respectable 6k, I'm going to see if fun-runs are easier than marathons for the time being and try to go back to 1x wk.

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Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy.

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**3 - Sleeping with the Dogs**

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Bella watched the shadows undulate up the sloped ceiling. They licked and rippled hypnotically over the glossy stained pine while the soft popping played behind her. With a sigh, she curled on her side, bringing a hand up to rest between her cheek and the rough cotton weave of the sheets.

Even though she was exhausted, her eyes just wouldn't stay closed.

This evening had been unsettling. Hell, she couldn't even remember the last time she'd felt settled. But there was something about this man that pulled even further out of her wobbly orbit even when he was ignoring her.

And he _was_ ignoring her.

Paul had come back to the house two hours after he'd left her stunned senseless. Face frosted along with his clothes, he'd stripped of his jacket and boots and headed straight for the finished stew on the stove…like Bella hadn't been standing in front of it, stirring.

She'd scampered out of his way as he'd pulled it to the cooler side of the cast iron surface and then proceeded to grab a ladle. She'd felt invisible – like a ghost haunting the living, which is really what she was if she stopped to think about it. In fact, the only way she knew he actually saw her was that he'd served two bowls. He'd dipped out a generous portion into a speckled blue tin bowl that matched the coffee cups and then proceeded to served enough to feed a small army or even the half-wolf in the dog's metal mixing bowl.

Without even an acknowledging glance, he'd brought both bowls to the table and left one end while he retreated to the other. Propping his arm on the knotted wood, the man had hunched over his gallon of stew and proceeded to shovel it into his face – without coming up for air as far as she could tell. It had been pretty much like watching Seth eat… except with a mixing spoon.

But, like a train-wreck, somewhere between horror and fascination she couldn't look away while he'd devoured his bowl in less time it took for her to wander toward her place. She sat down uncomfortably and he'd pushed back his chair and headed for another gallon serving.

One arm wrapped around her waist and shoulders hunched to her ears, she'd blown on and nibbled through half her bowl in the time it too for him to annihilate two more.

Then he'd gotten up and proceeded to clean up the kitchen.

The stew really had been delicious. Savory, thick and rich, it was just the thing for this weather. Bella barely tasted it. She'd kept waiting for the enigma brusquely cleaning up the kitchen to either volley a gruff insult or drizzle oily innuendo in her ear.

He did neither.

Bella was still working on her bowl of stew when he'd let Seth out into the snow and then headed toward his sleeping area and started stripping the bed. He'd changed the sheets, thrown several logs on the fire, let the dog back in and disappeared into the bathroom himself like a well-rehearsed routine. A wet Seth and come to press an icy nose into her lap and she'd slipped him the last chunks of her food. But when the man had emerged, Seth had quickly scampered back and returned to his place on the rug as his apparent _master_ prowled to the couch.

Raking the jumble of blankets from the long sofa, Paul had stretched his big body out, tucked a pillow under his head and closed his eyes.

The only words he'd uttered the whole night were: "You get the bed."

Bella had sat at the end of the table with her empty bowl for long minutes, listening to the wind howl and the fire rage, like the soundtrack to the maelstrom inside her. She was so disoriented.

Eventually she'd been able to gather enough presence to move and, by the dim flame of lanterns and hearth, she'd washed her dish, made a quick trip to the bathroom, and then skirted uncomfortably around the edges of the room toward the bed.

Other than the bowl of stew and those terse four words, the only way Bella knew he even knew she was there was he'd gotten up and turned out all the lamps as soon as she'd burrowed under the blankets.

And that's where she's stayed.

Alone. (And she was referring to the dog)

With another soft sigh, Bella turned over. Seth was curled up on the bearskin rug, with his muzzle on his paws, watching her. She hadn't realize what a comfort her living pillow was until he was halfway across the room. She pleaded with her eyes for him to join her.

The dog picked his head up, his ears flattening as a big tongue licked at his snout. But with a glance over his shoulder he just flopped his head back down. It was like Paul had given him some kind of silent directive rooting him to the spot.

Beyond him, the man in question was lounging, long and large and taking up the entire eight-foot couch, with both hands propped behind his head. His eyes were closed and the amber firelight was sketching his face in shadow and folding into rugged features teetering somewhere between mysterious and menace.

Palm to palm, Bella pushed her hands under her cheek as she stared at the two of them. Seth was watching her with big puppy eyes and it felt like a set-up. The man had managed somehow to usurp her one comfort without even trying.

"If you wanna sleep with the dog, you're going to have to come by the fire."

Distrusting her ears, Bella gave a good sound blink as she lifted her head an inch off her hand. Eyes still closed and lips obscured by scruff and shadows there was nothing to indicate that low husky voice had come from the man on the couch.

And it was annoying (like everything about him).

"Which one?" Bella sniffed irritably.

The shadows spread with his smile as those eyes cracked open. "Both."

Scowling, Bella lay her cheek slowly back on her hand.

"Or I could join you in the bed, if you'd like," he crooned.

She hated it, but as pitiful as it was, it was comforting that he was talking to her again. Even if he _was_ being a total ass - he didn't have another channel, apparently.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she accused.

That smile melted into a murky leer. "I guarantee you would too."

"I'm adding 'conceited' _and_ 'cocky' to the list," she glared… like it was some kind of threat.

A brow hopped, in point of fact, _cockily_.

"Wanna see _why_, princess?" he purred buttered brass that felt like it drizzled down directly to melt into sticky between her legs.

There was nothing she could do but rip her eyes away from the devil. Bella scoffed loudly, gaze flicking up to where the vaulted ceiling disappeared in darkness.

" 'You scared?"

Her eyes darted back to that face etched in amusement.

"Of you?" she picked her head up, derision twisting her lips. "Most definitely."

"I'd say you were a smart girl if that was true," he chuckled.

Bella's brows pushed together and that chuckle cracked into a soft laugh that flashed his teeth. Then he closed his eyes.

"You're scared of _yourself_, princess."

Glowering, Bella pushed off the bed. "What?"

"You heard me," he murmured under his breath as he stretched luxuriantly, the muscles cocking and jumping in his arms as he tipped his chin more up to the ceiling.

Bella sat up, pulling her feet under her as she stared at him. "You don't even _know_ _me_," she laughed fruitless denial.

That mouth hitched up on one suggestive side. "I know a real quick way to change that."

Bella pushed her unraveling braid over her shoulder. "Is _everything_ about sex with you?" she bit out hotly.

Dark eyes popped open again and stared at her over his cheeks. "With you?" he purred. "_Most definitely_." He threw her words back.

She coughed disgust as she shook her head and her gaze darted off to the side searching for some kind of coherent comeback. But even though he'd changed the sheets, her body was suddenly aware of just how his scent still saturated it – musky, warm, virile – and how uncomfortably intimate it felt to be steeping in it… now.

"You know what?" she spat as she lowered her legs over the side. "You can have the freaking bed."

"Without you in it?" he lifted his brow. "That's a Goddamn shame."

Bella lunged to her feet, rubbing her palms over her face and then slapping them against her thighs. He was utterly infuriating.

A gust of wind pounded against the house, shrieking like a banshee outside and she jumped with a squeak. She glanced over her shoulder at the dark rumpled blankets and then out into the honeycomb halo of firelight.

He'd closed his eyes again but Seth's head was up, ears alert and excited. He whined softly. Maybe it was some kind of primal instinct, but there was something about being in a cabin in the middle of blizzardy nowhere that made her want to crawl into a puppy pile of living warmth.

With a huff, she wrapped her arms around herself and started toward the fire. The dog shimmied in place with another whine as she slowly shuffled toward him. The man didn't move a muscle.

Bella stopped beside a clawed bear foot where the beast was now nothing but a mat on the floor. She stared at the creature's empty eyes uncomfortably.

"It's dead," Paul muttered wryly.

She had no idea how he knew what she was thinking – or even where she was. By all appearances, he was sleeping on the couch. But the dog was starting to go crazy – attention locked on her, he was whimpering and shimmying back and forth anxiously on his haunches like he was fighting an invisible weight that kept him from bursting up to four paws.

The man flashed savage teeth at the ceiling and snarled, "Seth!"

Immediately the beast turned around and shuffled toward him. A hand shot out and blindly fisted in his ruff. "_Down_," he growled.

With a soft yelp the dog flattened onto his belly, licking his muzzle repentantly.

Annoyed with the way he manhandled the animal (along with everything else on that growing list), Bella glared at him, but Paul didn't so much as gift her a glance. His fist turned into a brusque ruffle of fur and then his hand slipped back behind his head.

With hitching doggy sigh, the animal curled up beside the tyrant and blinked at Bella as he rested his tail over his nose.

"You're mean," Bella accused. "I don't know why he listens to you."

"Because _he's_ scared of me," the man smirked.

Heaving a sullen sigh, Bella wrapped her arms tighter around her middle for a moment as she considered her options: going back to the bed – that smelled like him – or stretching out by this warm crackling fire in the hopes that Seth would eventually shake free of the dictator's control and join her. That, however, would entail stepping on this shiny dead animal. She'd only seen bear-rugs in the movies… or maybe she'd just heard of them, she didn't even know.

Her attention fell to the poor skinned beast and she pushed her lip out sympathetically. She stepped over its paw and squatted slowly by the bear's head, reaching out a tentative finger to his snout where his fierce snarl was now gruesomely immortalized. The beast had to have been as massive as the grey wolf she'd seen – his thick black pelt stretched out in a rug the size of a double mattress.

"He didn't suffer."

Bella looked up from petting the fur between the animal's ears. Paul's was watching her over the plains of his cheeks

She cocked her head at him. "Did you shoot him?" It was a sneaky leading question based on what Jasper had said about the animal skins that were brought down to town… by the man who'd killed his own father.

" 'Broke his neck," he sniffed, closing his eyes again and tipping up his chin to the ceiling.

Bella glanced at the behemoth and then back up at Paul in disbelief. "_How_?" she balked.

The man's mouth just oozed into a slow smile that looked nothing short of sinister.

In fact, it made a shiver shimmy down her spine. Tearing her eyes from that disturbing expression she returned them to the bear. Wrapping her arms around herself, she straightened, took a deep breath and stepped over its head. When it didn't move or... anything (she wasn't sure what she'd expected) she carefully sat down in the middle of the thick pelt. A palm couldn't help but spread out in an appreciative caress – it _was_ soft, _soft_ fur.

Just like Paul had promised… along with other things.

A different kind of shudder shuttled down her back.

Trying to distract herself, Bella pulled her feet under her and stared into the fire for a few minutes, trying to put the things she knew about this man together.

"Did you kill the wolf too?" she whispered.

"You're pretty concerned about that fucking wolf."

"He was _suffering_." Bella turned and scowled over her shoulder at where the man was staring at the ceiling.

In a movement so unexpected that she jumped, his face snapped to the side. "Life _is_ suffering." His nose wrinkled with a silent snarl that was dark and frightening.

Her heart sprinted a few more laps as she squeezed herself tighter, but she couldn't help but react to the dry dead despair behind the savagery.

She drew in a shaking breath. "Does it have to be, Paul?" she whispered.

His eyes paced between hers several times. "You tell me, princess."

Bella pressed her lips together for a moment as she stared back at him – she wasn't sure she had an answer for that. Experience had taught her one thing, but still it was hard to come to that same conclusion for others. Her husband had always told her that her heart was her biggest weakness.

"You _still_ have a little bit of fucking hope, don't you?" Paul coughed disparagingly as his gaze swept up to the ceiling. "Enjoy it while it lasts, little girl."

Could this man _be_ more complex?

Bella had a good mind for people – which is why she'd survived as long as she had with the monster she'd married – and even _she_ was having trouble keeping up. It made her chest ache to catch a glimpse of the misery that lived under this hardened shell. Maybe her husband had been right.

Bella flicked her tongue against her teeth as she drew in a breath and then released it in a sigh. She'd never wanted to let life make her bitter and jaded, yet she realized that was exactly where she'd found herself at the end of the road. _Was_ there anything else? _Could_ things be better?

A soft whine made her eyes drop to where Seth was staring at her longingly. With simple needs and simple wants, the dog had the right idea: stay in the present.

"C'mere honey," she cooed reaching out a hand.

The dog shimmied on his paws but craned around to the man stretched out behind him.

_Like he was asking permission._ It popped the cap off her temper and her blood pressure skyrocketed.

"_Stop terrorizing him_!" Bella yelled. "He's _my_ dog."

Without so much as a glance, a wry smile jumped into place. "But he knows who _you_ belong to."

Her mouth popped open in disbelief. "_What_?!"

That smirk spread in a wolfish leer.

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?!" she barked pure outrage.

Paul pursed his lips tauntingly. "Temper, temper," he tsked. Smothering that smile into private, he returned his gaze to the ceiling. "And what'd I tell you about questions?"

Her face was going to be _frozen_ in fury before this was over, she was sure of it. Bella stared at his profile for a moment, eyes closed softly and the remnants of smug amusement still dusting his lips.

But, honestly, she didn't think she _was_ ready to hear the answer this time.

"Go ahead, mutt," he sniffed suddenly.

Seth's head snapped around and he bounded up to four paws, limping over to her side with excited whimpers.

Bella's hands dove into his ruff with brisk scratches as he pushed her over with enthusiastic weight, his tail whipping back and forth like a maniac.

"Seth!" the man barked.

With a final lap to her face the animal settled down beside her, resting his heavy head in her lap. Bella scratched behind his ears, trying to reset. Paul had once again dragged her through hot coals and avoided answering her question and she was more than happy to move on… or back to the matter at hand.

"You never answered," she bit out as she fiddled with one of Seth's felty ears. It flicked at her hand and then came back for more punishment.

"_Which_ question?" the man drawled from the couch.

Bella decided to pretend the others simply hadn't been asked. She smoothed the ear down on the dog's head. "Whether you killed the wolf or not."

Paul sniffed a laugh. "Not."

Bella craned over her shoulder to see if he was telling the truth.

His eyes popped open and he turned to her with an arch to his brow. "I _told_ you he wasn't there."

"And why in the hell would I trust you?" she bit out crisply.

He gave her a saccharine smile, complete with a bitter aftertaste. "_Liar_ is not something you can put on that list, little girl."

Bella turned back to the fire as her hand continued to absently stroke through Seth's fur. Her gaze was drawn to the dancing flames as her mind wandered, searching for the road. There were no landmarks, no beaten path, no guiding star or anything familiar to help her find her way in this wilderness.

"I can't do this," she whispered.

For several long seconds the fire popped and lapped over the logs in the hearth. Paul shifted behind her on the couch. She didn't look.

When it became obvious she was on her own she continued. "I can't be stuck up here in the middle of nowhere in the snow with some crazy guy I don't even know _who's playing stupid games_."

The sounds of wind outside overtook the murmuring fire and Seth released a soft sigh, curling his body up tighter.

"And just what game do you think I'm playing?" the man sniffed behind her.

Bella squinted at the fire, watching the light catch in her lashes. "All the_-…_" she huffed and then swallowed her words and tried again. "You're rough and mean and screwing with my head."

"Hmm…" he hummed with theatric consideration behind her. "Yeah, rough… mean… Mm hmm," he smacked his lips. "But I' never been much of a mind-fuck kinda guy. It's that _body_ I want to screw."

Bella whipped over her shoulder to find him watching her from under his lashes with that maddening smirk on his lips.

"Is everything about sex with you?!" she snapped.

Paul raised a casual brow. " 'Think you asked that one already."

Bella coughed snidely. "I hate to think how you satisfy that addiction up here."

Completely unfazed, his lips spread in an acidic leer as he pulled a hand from behind his head and wiggled his fingers.

"A dirty mind and two big hands, princess," he purred and then turned to face her head on. "Because they do need to be…" he bit his lip as the humor ripened in his eyes. "_Big_."

"Oh my God!" she squawked, snapping back around and trying to ignore the blush that rushed to her cheeks.

And the mental picture.

_Oh my God._

Paul's deep laughter broke through the room like thunder. "You're too easy," he chuckled.

"You _don't_ _know_ me," she spat, pushing Seth's head agitatedly out of her lap.

"And there's a real quick way-…"

"_Oh, are you going to recycle __all__ your lame comebacks?!" _she exploded. " _'Cause they were stupid enough the first time_!" Spinning around, she slapped her palms on the bear rug. "Some things are freaking _serious_, you know!" She was yelling now and, sure, she'd _used_ to have a temper, but she'd never lost it like this.

"**You don't know me and you wouldn't understand****!"**

Slowly the red haze receded as she stared down a man still lounging with infuriating unconcern on the couch. Both hands shoved under his head, one foot was propped cavalierly over the other and he was watching her out of the corner of sly eyes.

And wasn't her gaze just drawn straight to that - in point of fact - big (huge) bulge, pressing against straining jeans only several feet away?

_Holy crap._

Coughing over the mortification, Bella turned back around and pulled her knees to her chest as she futilely shook her head.

Seth stared up at her from where his muzzle was now resting on his paws. He was strangely untroubled and it had to have something to do with that psycho and his freaky control over _her_ dog. She pulled her shins in tighter as she propped her chin on her knees and glowered into the oblivious fire, merrily dancing away.

"Here's something I understand: those bruises are a week old and still goin' strong."

That dusky murmur made her head snap around in surprise. Face tipped up to the ceiling, Paul's eyes were closed in a face that was a blank slate.

Bella heard her own whisper hiss through her teeth, "What?"

For a moment she thought maybe sanity had receded to the point of aural hallucination until he deliberately licked his lips and spoke again – measured, taut, spookily quiet. "The last guy beat the fuck out of you. 'Probably other shit too."

Bella's brows crashed together and she bit her lip over the stab of pain in her chest.

Paul drew in a slow breath through his nose as his lids clenched closed tighter, flipping up his lashes. "Yeah, I'm an animal," he breathed. "But not that kind."

Bewildered by the switch, Bella studied that stoic profile for a moment. The knot that swelled in her throat took almost a minute to dissipate enough that she could speak.

"Then why are you pushing?" she choked.

He sniffed as that crooked smile tucked into the corner of his mouth and those eyes lazily opened. He slowly turned his face toward her.

"Haven't you ever heard that if you get thrown from the saddle the best thing to do is get up…" he cocked a suggestive brow. "And _ride_ again?"

And their sentimental little moment shattered like crystal on concrete.

"You have _got_ to be kidding," Bella's mouth popped open as she turned her back on clueless machismo. "You don't get it," she smothered her scoff with her palms as she smeared them over her face.

"I can't do this," she murmured to herself – so discombobulated she couldn't even make sense. "I can't be stuck up here with you. _Like this._ I finally got away. I came out to the middle of freaking nowhere to be free but here I am, caught in another trap."

With a frustrated grunt she slapped her hands onto her thighs. "I feel _trapped_!" she hissed as her mind fumbled around like it was drunk.

" 'No more than I am," he sniffed a bitter laugh.

_He _was trapped?

She hadn't thought of it that way. She _had_ invaded his little private world, hadn't she? Instantly, her shoulders rounded under familiar guilt, heavy and soft like a well-worn blanket. Tucking flyaway hairs behind her ear, she turned her cheek.

Paul was watching her with that smirk carved woodenly into the shadows.

"Look, fate's a bitch…get over it," he coughed and returned his gaze to the ceiling. But the scorn had been wrung from his voice… it sounded like he was _trying_ to be serious for the first time since they'd started this insanity. "Yeah we get beaten and maimed along the way. Just ask that fucking wolf."

His eyes swooped down and met hers as Bella turned over her shoulder a little more.

"But if you don't keep going and bear weight where it hurts," he murmured. His voice was low and smoky. "It'll grow back all fucked up and you'll limp the rest of your life."

Bella pressed her lips together as her gaze slid down between them. She shifted on the rug, hitching a shoulder up to her ear. She was so confused and it felt like she was crumbling in on herself. "It's too soon," she whispered across the sleek ebony sea.

"That's everyone's excuse."

Bella looked up from under her lashes at the man staring at her from the shadows of that heavy brow. God she wished she could see his eyes.

"All we got is _now_," he sniffed a laugh and then his eyes floated up like he was chasing his thoughts through the rafters.

He shook his head slowly as derision kicked up the corner of his mouth. "And _now_ can be a real long fucking time to be alone," he whispered under his breath. For just a split second that façade slipped just enough for her to see bone-deep weariness… and suffering.

Bella's eyes curved into concerned half-moons. Her mouth popped open, hoping the right words found their way to his pain.

But he beat her to it. Smacking his lips, he turned back to her with derision screwed back into his face. And just like that, Jackass was back.

"And you could join me for a little of that long fucking now," he crooned with a jump of his brow. "You're already halfway there, served up so fucking sweet on that soft, _soft_ fur." He bit his lip challengingly. "Just like dessert."

Before she could even recover from the whiplash, Bella's mutinous eyes jumped down his body onto the mountainous bulge in his pants. Heat charging to her cheeks, she ripped her glance away, hoping he hadn't noticed.

Of course he had.

Paul chuckled low in his chest as that smirk deepened. "Yeah my mouth's not the only thing watering, princess."

Beyond flustered, Bella slapped her hands on that (soft, soft) rug and a blew a gasket to keep from losing her mind.

"_God, stop __calling__ me that!"_ she screamed.

"Alright, little girl."

"_That too_!"

That leer turned wry. "Sure thing, babe."

Literally _fuming_, she ground her teeth together, trying to decide whether she should keep up the verbal joust or just throw in the towel. It was a losing battle either way.

Sitting up more she tore her eyes away from that smug smirk and threw daggers into the fire. "If you're such a freaking nympho," she turned back with scorn curling her lip. "Why the hell are you living like a hermit?"

His mouth spread in a saccharine smile and then mimicked her with a laughable attempt at falsetto, "_You don't know me_. _You wouldn't understand_."

But there was something serious behind those eyes. Bella reacted to it instantly and frowned as her gaze darting over his face.

But he quickly shoved it under gloss as his voice dove down into the murky deep. "But we can fix that, can't we…?"

Coughing dismay, Bella turned back around – confused beyond belief. She didn't know _what_ to think about this man. He had a way of igniting both her temper _and_ her blood… at the same time.

And she didn't have the bandwidth for any of it.

Her chin dipped down as she shook her head and absently pulled her braid over her shoulder. It was unraveled now to nothing but a chaotic auburn ringlet.

She pulled the strands free and then jumped as something thunked down on the fur by her knee. Seth picked his head up lackadaisically as Bella scooped up the brush and glanced over her shoulder.

Paul was still lounging in the exact same position, looking like he was dead or at very least asleep. Brows knitting, she turned her back on him and raked her fingers through her hair before pulling the brush through the curls. Around the handle was the band she'd had on her hair in the snow last night.

That was just _last night_?

This push-pull game between them was exhausting and confusing and rattling… and annoying as hell. She'd had the kinds of spats usually reserved for siblings (that she didn't even have with her best friend, Jacob), called him all sorts of names, and _in 24 hours_ gotten madder (and more turned on) than she'd ever been in ten whole years with her husband.

She'd been sprinting from compassion to violence, tripping all over the ground in between.

And he hadn't even touched her.

Unless you counted the time he'd stripped her to her underwear and given her a bath…

_And_ washed her hair.

Why did that seem important?

She looked down at her curls now brushed to shining ripples flowing down one side to her waist. The firelight brought out the red highlights making it look rich and thick and… pretty. Bella sighed softly – she remembered when she used to think about things like that.

Hopes and dreams.

Now it was all about survival. It had been for a while.

Heaving another sigh, she pushed her heavy locks over her shoulder and reached up in back to divide it into thirds.

"Don't."

Bella's hands froze in her hair as she turned over her shoulder, certain that that whisper had to be some kind of sick joke. Hands behind his head, Paul was staring at her with an expression she couldn't fathom for the life of her.

Bella was just narrowing her eyes to ask him what he'd said again, when she read the silent word on his lips, "Please."

Her gaze searched his face uncertainly, both mesmerized by this quietness and waiting for the inevitable sucker-punch.

But, without word or explanation, Paul just closed his eyes and turned his face back up to the ceiling.

Bella's gaze strummed up and down that intense profile, searching vainly for more until Seth whined and pressed his muzzle into her thigh. Turning back to the fire she stared at it for a moment, hoping it could burn some sense into her brain as she absently stroked his fur.

She whispered her question to the flames, "Why?"

The man released a long-suffering sigh behind her. "Why, _what_?" he drawled.

"Why don't you want me to braid it?" Bella turned over her shoulder.

Eyes closed, his chin was tipped up to the ceiling. "What'd I tell you about questions?" he hummed under his breath.

Bella narrowed her eyes. "Oh you conveniently left out _this_ little caveat," she spat tartly.

Paul's eyes cracked open and he slowly turned his head with a wry lift of his brow. "Excuse me?"

She gave him a taste of his own smirk. "I shouldn't ask questions _you_ don't want to answer either?"

He stared at her for a moment and then barked that deep laugh, but she could see the challenge didn't set well. He slowly congealed up to sit on the couch as his gaze ran over her – appreciative or annoyed, she couldn't tell.

"Because. I. like. it," he bit each word quietly out like a threat.

Bella's eyes flicked up to the ceiling. "You're _just like him_," she scorned, turning her back on him. Perhaps it was unfair because this man was impossible and annoying and an unabashed pervert… but he was nothing like the monster she'd left.

But she was sick of being treated like an object and told what to do.

"I can't do this again," she hissed under her breath. Push a harsh sigh through her teeth, she yanked her hair over her shoulder and started braiding it with jerking fingers.

"Alright."

Bella froze mid-plait.

Biting her lip, she turned just so she could see him out of the corner of her eye. Elbows resting on his thighs, his head was hanging.

Bella turned around a little more.

Raking his hands through his hair he sat up, his hands digging into the couch beside his thighs. "Y'know, I don't give a shit," the sass on his lips didn't reach his eyes – they were cold, hard. "I'll take you to town come daybreak, princess." He coughed a laugh. "In fact, I'll fucking _carry_ you down the mountain. Then you _might_ actually make it alive."

Bella stared at him for a moment, too stunned to do much more. "You will?"

"You know the answer to that one."

Bella turned blindly back to the fire for a moment. Just the fact that she had a choice suddenly changed everything. She stared down at her fingers, frozen mid-braid. Other than trying to convince her (in every way imaginable) to sleep with him, this was the only thing he'd actually asked of her:

Not to braid her hair.

He'd saved her life – she owed him this small thing, didn't she? Tucking her chin, she combed through it just enough that it would unravel the rest of the way as she threw the hair sheepishly over her shoulder. She heard the man shift behind her but didn't dare look.

Seth shuffled alongside her and she threaded her fingers through his sandy fur while she tried to figure out what to do. Finally she decided on lying down and she snuggled on her side into the big dog and stared into the fire. Seth curled around her a little more, happily resting his muzzle in the grotto of her stomach and knees.

_So this was it? _

He was going to take her down to town in the morning and all this would be over? _Then_ what? Out of the frying pan and back into the fire?

The wind gusted and the flames in the hearth shimmied with a plume of backdraft smoke that quickly got sucked back up the chimney.

Behind her the man drew in a long breath through his nose and then exhaled words in a quiet voice, "In my culture, hair is a symbol of spirit and soul."

Bella blinked free from the hypnotizing flames but didn't dare move a muscle.

"I like to see it free."

The words hit her hard in the middle of her chest, taking her breath away. So simple, yet profound, they showed the same astute mind that alphabetized books by words and not author.

Paul said no more, but simply left the words hanging in the air to speak for themselves- somehow more sensual and intimate than any of the seduction.

Desperate for more, she finally turned over and was surprised to find he'd switched sides of the couch. Her gaze traveled up long thick legs to the man now only several feet away. Hands behind his head again, now his lounge looked anything but relaxed though. His eyes were staring up at the ceiling like he was waiting for judgment.

And she wasn't sure how to handle it.

But she craved to know more of this side of him. She knew other Native American men who wore their hair long - Jacob's Potawatomi father, included - but Paul's hung just over his ears, its wave rough and messy like it had been hacked off by a hunting knife.

"Why do you cut yours, then?" she asked softly.

He turned his head slowly and met her gaze. Lying side by side and so close now, the intimacy choked her for a moment before his eyes started roaming, plucking over her face in an agitated survey.

He blinked soundly and then turned back up to the ceiling as bitterness oozed into the corner of his mouth. "I lost both a long fucking time ago."

_Spirit and soul._

It staked her through the heart – not only that he felt that way but that he'd _told_ her. Pressure rose up behind her nose and eyes as she lifted her head from Seth's fur.

"Paul…" she whispered.

"No more questions," he bit out to the ceiling. "Sleep. You' got a long trip tomorrow."

And then he closed his eyes.

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_Review if you like. _


	4. Healing Wounds

This (long) chapter could use some more work but I wanted to get it up. I actually split it (yeah I know) so that means the next is half-written so it should be up soonish. 'Preciate for your patience.

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Note: though some of the allegory in this story is similar, I'm changing up a lot of it from Twilight so best to forget what you know and just go with it. Of special note, while keeping true Quileute myth more intact than SM, I'm still taking fictional liberties with another People's stories.

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Song: Closer by Kings of Leon

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Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy.

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**Chapter 4 – Healing Wounds**

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A summer breeze strummed at Bella's hair in lazy syncopation to the low steady rhythm of ocean waves.

She was wrapped tightly in a towel like her mother used to do after she and Jacob had gone swimming at the beach in Virginia. Her cheek was pressed to another towel laid over sand that was both soft and hard. Stretched out under the sun, Bella was greedily soaking up the heat beside her best childhood friend.

These had been the best days of her life.

Decorating sandcastles with seaweed and shells with her mom, munching on cold watermelon that dribbled sticky down her chin, running and laughing along the water's edge with Jacob in hot pursuit while their parents laughed…

She'd felt safe and free.

Sighing, she snuggled into the bundling towel as the soft ocean sounds rocked her soothingly. The playful sun was teasing her eyelids but she clenched them stubbornly tighter.

She didn't want to leave this place.

But someone was getting restless… as usual. He shifted on her side, tickling her ribs and her lips curved in a smile. "Stop it, Jake," she mumbled.

She was answered by a chuff and rooting nuzzle.

The world tilted on its axis as the dream careened into a crash with cold hard consciousness. She frowned as heavy lids ventured open. Rolling plains of threadbare plaid stretched out toward her hand splayed over their horizon.

Bella's eyes shot open as reality flooded her veins like Freon.

Just then that swaddling warmth withdrew and her pillow shifted under her. Bella's gaze darted instinctually down to the eyes watching her. It wasn't Jacob curled into her back, it was _Seth's_ heavy head on her side.

He picked up his muzzle, with a lapping-snuffle greeting.

Her heart stuttered in her chest as she took panicked stock of her body: she was laid out on her side with one arm cuddled up to her chest, her hand fisted under her chin. The other was sprawled along with one leg over a massive and very male body. That thunderous surf was a _heartbeat_ and the lazy breeze _someone's_ warm breath stroking her hair.

_Oh, God…_

Her eyes ventured up, tipping her face up along with them.

Both arms now propped behind his head, Paul was looking down at her with laughing eyes and the devil in his smile.

Shrieking, she pushed off of him in a scramble. "What are you _doing_!?"

That smirk deepened. "I think the question is: what are _you_ doing…"

Wild-eyed, she sat up, frantically pushing crazy rat's nest hair back from her face. "I was _sleeping_!"

Paul's brows lifted. "Then I was waiting for you to wake up," he rumbled. "And it's about damn time."

He pushed slowly up and Bella scooted back a little more over the silky fur of the bear rug, desperately scrabbling to find her bearings. "But-… b-but…"

Sitting up now, Paul leaned toward her with a wicked leer. " 'Not my fault you can't keep your hands off me."

Bella turned her head with a defensive scoff. "I was _sleeping_," she mumbled lamely.

And she had been. With her knee hiked up to her waist _and between his legs_ like some kind of hussy.

" 'That what you call it?" he coughed a laugh.

Bella turned back to his dark stare. "I'd say it was more like 'tossing and shrieking,'" he coughed disparagingly. "Got a little problem with nightmares, princess?"

Her eyes slipped to the floor as she pressed chagrinned lips together. She couldn't remember the last time she'd even slept through the night... other than this one.

And, by the looks of the bright light filtering into the cabin, she'd slept well into the day.

At a low long groan, Bella looked up to find Paul congealing up to his freakish height and stretching his languid arms overhead. It made the hem of his flannel hitch up from a swath of toffee skin and a trail sketched in dark hairs that disappeared under bulging jeans.

Fire leached into her veins and her cheeks and she simply couldn't keep up. Ripping her gaze away she found his face, wondering if she'd gotten caught ogling.

But his eyes were focused on the hearth as he cracked his neck and then stepped over the dog. Bella was suddenly aware of just how chilly the house was, now that she'd lost her two space heaters. She turned and pulled her knees to her chest with a shiver as she watched him squat by the fireplace.

"Fuck," he spat as he went over onto his knees with a thunk. He thrust an irritable hand into the basket of tinder beside the hearth and tossed some sticks inside.

Miles beyond disoriented, Bella tucked her chin and squeezed her shins tighter as her gaze skipped around the room. Crisp, full-on daylight was seeping through windows that had frosted over on the inside from the cold. The intimidating mystery of the cabin last night had melted in the morning and now it looked cluttered but somehow airy with the cheery stained pine and vaulted ceiling.

"Since I wasn't getting any shut-eye with all your _sleeping_…" Paul drawled sourly.

Bella's gaze darted back to where he was cupping a hand around a match as he lit the tinder.

"I got up and put some logs on the fire," he murmured and then leaned down to blow gently on the fledgling flame. "I decided to wake you up so at least **I** could get a little beauty sleep."

Apparently satisfied with the catching flames, he turned and looked her straight in the eye. The slow smile spread over his face certainly didn't bode well.

"And you fucking jumped me."

Bella's brows crashed over her frown. "I did _not_."

He bit down on that smirk as he nodded slowly.

"No-…!"

"Mm hmm. Like a steel trap, babe," he crooned. "Grabbed my arm, wouldn't let go."

Bella's mouth popped open, wanting to deny it but not seeing how she could with the evidence she'd woken up to, clear as day. She'd been plastered all over him.

"But at least you _finally_ shut the hell up," he sniffed as that smile cocked all cocky. "So I lay down beside you on the floor, hoping I could at least get a few winks before I had to schlep you down this goddamn mountain…"

Her face jerked back up – she'd forgotten about that completely.

Paul was watching her with laughing eyes, apparently enjoying himself immensely. "And you climbed right on up and had your way with me, didn't you?"

Bella's cheeks were burning but she gathered her tattered dignity and straightened her spine. "I'm sure that was _horrible_ for you," she narrowed her eyes.

"It was," he agreed breathlessly as a theatric hand flew to his chest. "Pinned helplessly to the floor while you humped my leg and drooled all over me."

Mortified eyes automatically fell to where - indeed - a huge lake soaked into his chest. Her face went up in flames.

"_Oh my God_," she breathed.

Paul captured her horrified eyes. Tucking his chin, he pinched his shirt and pointedly lifted it off his chest.

And then_ pulled the wet fabric into his mouth_. Bella's eyes ballooned out of her head as he suckled, slow and sultry.

He let the flannel drop from his teeth and licked leisurely lips. "Mmm," he crooned. "Even sweeter than I thought."

She finally found her voice. "You're disgusting!" she shrieked.

Paul threw his head back and that rich chocolate laugh warmed the room.

Infuriated and disoriented - and, worse yet, hating that the pervert turned her on – Bella's eyes raked the ground trying to figure out what the hell to do. Her gaze landed on the brush and she lunged for it.

"I think it's only fair that we _swap_ some of this spit."

Bella glared at him as she pushed unsteadily to her feet. "In your freaking dreams," she bit out.

His mouth kicked up on one side. "You _were_ the one humping my leg."

She was so _not_ going to touch that one...

Hacking disgust from the back of her throat, Bella stomped toward the only place she could escape him – the bathroom.

His chuckles were still billowing through the cabin as she slammed the door behind her. It was even _colder_ in here but, honestly, Bella welcomed the slap of frigid air on her burning cheeks. She needed to cool off – in several senses of the word.

After quickly making use of the facilities, she pulled her hair over her shoulder and started trying to work the brush through the night's tangles as she stared out the window. At least the snow had stopped coming down. The sparkling white hillside looked crisp and serene against a milky blue sky.

Drawing a deep breath and releasing it into a billowing plume, Bella leaned one hip against the ledge under the window and stared out over the picturesque landscape as she absently worked the knots out of her hair and mind.

Other than all tangled up (and cold) she actually felt - she hated to admit it - good. _Rested_. She'd never slept so well in adult memory.

Her hand froze in her hair.

Paul had had his arm around her this morning - even her muddled mind had processed that fact - and it had felt _so incredibly good_. She didn't realize how much she'd missed simple physical contact like that. Her psychotic husband liked things to be just OCD so and when they'd shared a bed (and he didn't retreat to his room after he'd taken what he wanted) he'd always slept on his back with his hands over his stomach like a corpse.

He never… just held her.

In fact, the last time she'd been held through the night was by Jacob. They'd shared a bed for vacations and sleepovers until they were into their teens and out of "appropriate" bounds. They'd always snuggled up like puppies.

Kind of like the puppy pile last night.

Bella bit her lip as she started brushing her hair again just to distract herself from the press of tears. She was so _confused_.

Was Paul a predator playing with his prey before he turned into a monster like _he_ had done? Was he just seducing her into giving it up before he dropped her cold like her only other boyfriend in high school?

What _did_ he want, anyway?

Well, _sex -_ that was a freaking no-brainer - but if that was all, he could have forced her a long time ago. Then was it all just the fun and games of a lonely pervert?

Because he _was_ lonely. And suffering. She couldn't deny she'd seen both last night in his eyes.

"God, I don't know," she breathed, squeezing her eyes closed with a shake of her head.

And there was no way she _could_.

She'd spent less than 48 mind-blowingly audacious and annoying hours with him in the middle of a snowstorm. She suddenly realized she was going at this from the wrong angle: she needed to think with her _head_ and not with her battered heart.

She needed to be the practical girl she used to be and there was one thing in the middle of this mess that was clear: leaving _would_ be jumping out of the frying pan and into the unknowable fire.

Right now, at least _technically_, she was safer here than she'd been anywhere else the last decade.

She'd known she needed to be somewhere isolated enough that limitless wealth and fathomless obsession couldn't find her. And from a mercenary perspective, she now had access to the expertise and resources to actually survive it. There was no doubt that she'd have been dead by now if she'd stayed alone in that shack.

Bella released a slow shaking breath that hung as smoke in the air along with a mess of thoughts and emotion. Her solitary time was up. She couldn't stand the cold anymore; her fingers were numb and her mind was even more of a knotted mess, but at least her hair was brushed free.

Pushing off the ledge she stood on cold-stiff legs and opened the door. The comparative warmth of the house wrapped around her and coaxed her forward.

She peeked out into the main room and her eyes immediately found Paul with his back to her, sitting cross-legged by the fire. Seth was nowhere to be seen and it made the man instantly more intimidating.

She wrapped her arms tighter around herself as she crept hesitantly forward. The fire was now roaring and the house was warming with the scents of coffee and smoke.

Paul ignored her as she sat on the far edge of the couch. Setting the brush down she shoved both cold hands under her armpits as her gaze curiously panned the dishes, bowls and pan spread out on the tray and hearth beside him.

She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Where's Seth?"

"Outside."

Bella's gaze darted automatically to the door and then back again to where Paul was stirring something in a bowl. "What are you doing?"

Without a glance, Paul reached into the hearth with a rag and grabbed the speckled blue ceramic kettle that was sitting on the edge of the flames. "Don't tell me you gonna sleep with me and then leave before breakfast?"

Bella blinked as he turned to her with that smirk oozing up into the scruff. "That makes me feel kinda cheap, princess."

Bella flicked her eyes up and he chuckled as his gaze fell to where he poured steaming brown into a matching cup. He stirred it with a spoon and then turned over his shoulder, handing it toward her with eyes that were suddenly unreadable.

Pressing her lips together uncomfortably, Bella grabbed up the brush and stood. She crossed the bear rug and took the offered coffee.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"Even though it's technically lunch now," he snorted as he returned the kettle to the fire.

God, he could ruin anything in a second flat.

Bella took several steps away and sat down on the other side of the hearth on the edge of the bearskin. Pulling her feet under her, she cupped the drink in both frigid hands, trying to siphon off the heat while she tried to get the lay of the land.

She watched the man reach into the fire with the rag and quickly flip down a grate that was set into the inside wall of the chimney. When he pulled a flat pan from beside him and set it on the shelf, Bella realized it was cooking surface over the corner of the fire.

With a subtle glance under his lashes, he picked up Seth's metal bowl that was now filled with leftover stew – that was cold by the looks of it – and shoveled a monster mouthful past his lips.

Bella's gaze fell to her cup and she blew absently over the steaming black.

Pulling one knee up and leaning against it, Paul wordlessly shoveled down more serving spoonfuls as they continued their silent standoff.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to test the waters. "It's stopped snowing," she mumbled and then took a sip of warm, sweet and chicory.

Eyes on his bowl, he sniffed a laugh. "Yeah, but since you sawed logs through half of our precious daylight we don't have enough left to make it to town."

"What?" Bella whispered.

He turned over his shoulder. " 'Fifteen miles through the four-foot drifts," he bit out. "And we have _four hours_ of sun left."

Brow furrowing, she watched her cup list down to her knee. She was actually kind of relieved that she didn't have to make a decision yet.

But then the rest of his sentence finally filtered through her brain. Her head whipped up with a scowl. "And I do _not_ snore."

His eyes cut up with a private smile. "Whatever you say, princess."

"I thought I said to stop calling me that," she spat.

"You did," he shoved another bite into his mouth and chewed on one wry side as he lifted his chin in challenge.

Bella took a defensive sip of coffee. Truth be told, the epithet didn't bother her as much as his dig about her sleeping habits.

In fact, she couldn't stand it.

"Do I really?" she whispered into her cup.

"Do you really what?"

Bella looked up to see his shit-eating grin. She blinked soundly in annoyance. "_Snore_…" she muttered out of the side of her mouth.

Paul chuckled and dug out another huge spoonful of congealed stew. " 'Think I'd have to sample a few more nights before I could officially say," he smirked and then shoved the food in his face, chewing sloppily.

It was gross _and_ annoying.

Pursing her lips, Bella set her cup down on the hardwood and gathered her hair in her hands behind her, dividing it into thirds to braid… just for spite (and the fact it was an unruly mess in this dry heat).

But his attention was on other things now. He'd set his food down and was now stirring a ladle through a mixing bowl filled with yellow batter. But she didn't miss the subtle smug curve to that saucy mouth.

She wanted to slap it off but instead she started braiding her hair.

Paul reached in with the rag to pull the heated griddle from the grate and set it on the stone hearth. He ladled batter into the center of the pan and it sizzled.

"So who's _Jake_?" he murmured.

Bella's hand froze in her hair - the question took her off guard and sent the world reeling on its ear. Just hearing her best friend's name on those lips was disconcerting.

It made all of this seem suddenly real.

Paul returned the pan to the grate in the fire and then turned over his shoulder. His eyes did a quick circuit of her face. "Lover?"

Bella blinked and shook her head. "We grew up together," she told him quietly. "He's my best friend."

Her gaze fell to the plait lying over her shoulder and she started braiding again, avoiding the eyes she could still feel raking over her.

Paul barked a laugh and she looked up as he turned more toward her and propped his forearm on his knee. "You wanted more?"

Bella pulled her lip into her mouth as her hands slowed their weave.

"No…" he cocked his head as those canny eyes paced between hers. "_He_ wanted more. And you regret you didn't take him up on the offer."

Flustered, Bella grabbed the brush with one hand and pulled the band off the handle to tie it off.

"See princess," he crooned. "Here you have the perfect chance to redeem your past mistakes."

She glanced up at his sly smile and he wiggled his brows.

Bella rolled her eyes and tossed her completed braid over her shoulder. "It's not like that," she huffed (even though it kind of was). "We've known each other since we were little. He's like a brother."

She just wished she'd actually given him a chance to see if it could change. Instead, Bella had chosen the easy route: exotic and mysterious… and a shortcut to hell.

Paul nodded sagely with one of his infuriating smirks and then turned back to the fire to pull the pan free. She picked up her cup and took a sip of coffee as she watched him work a spatula under the pancake on the griddle.

"So where the fuck is _Jake_ in all this shit?" he bit out sarcastically and then flipped the flapjack over, letting it cook on the heated cast iron.

"God, it's not _Jake's_ fault!" she balked, jumping to her friend's defense with heat. "He's been trying to get me to leave _for years_. But he and Ange just had a baby. He's at the top of his game. I'm not going to ruin his life because of my mistakes."

Paul turned his cheek just so she could see his eyes cut over from under a wayward lock of hair. "Why didn't you?"

The stinging question felt like it slapped her back into her body. Her shoulders rounded with the blow. Her gaze fell to where her finger was tracing the lip of the ceramic-covered metal. "It's complicated," she mumbled.

At the sharp clatter of ceramic, Bella looked up to watch him pull a plate from the tray.

"Complicated as in dangerous?" he murmured to the griddle as he shimmied the spatula under the pancake. He flipped it onto the plate and looked up and met her eye from behind a wave of dark hair.

"Or as in you love him…"

The onset was always immediate.

Bella stared back as she felt the familiar cold nothingness flood through brittle veins. Like some kind of vampire, her husband had drained her dry.

"I never loved him," she whispered woodenly as her gaze fell between them.

He'd swept her off her feet with promises, security, charm. Like the girl she'd been, Bella had blindly mistaken infatuation for love.

"I was nothing but a foolish little-…" The words lodged in her throat like broken glass.

Bella squeezed her eyes closed as she swallowed the painful shards. There weren't any tears left to bleed out. She bit hard into her lip as her fingernails dug into the heels of her hand, searching for the mooring of physical pain in hold her in the present.

"Bella."

Her name, cut from a felty bass, was simply too tempting on those lips. Bella's eyes eased open and she looked from under her lashes at the man holding out a plate.

"We're all fools," he whispered.

Those eyes held hers for a heartbeat longer and then he leaned closer, offering the plate like a rope to a quicksand victim.

Licking her lips, she leaned forward and took it... or tried to.

When he didn't let go, she looked up to that intense stare and read the words on silent lips, "You're safe here."

And then he released the plate to her hand and promptly turned back around.

For a moment, Bella was too stunned to move while he grabbed up the ladle for another batch. This was the kindest he'd been to her… the most _human_.

She blinked back from her thoughts at his soft laugh. He was ladling batter over the griddle. "And it doesn't look like any of it gets better with fucking age," he drawled, the sarcastic tone of his voice breaking the spell. "Seth's at the door."

Bella sat back with the plate as she turned over her shoulder.

"Can you let him in, princess?"

With a glance at where Paul was now putting the pan back in the fire, she set the plate down and stood. She smoothed her middle fingers over her eyes and then rubbed her temples as she crossed the room, trying to reset.

Why did any mention of _him_ send her spiraling, even out here in the middle of nowhere? Bella sniffed with a shake of her head. What a rhetorical question.

She opened the door to indeed find Seth sitting patiently behind it, his happy tail sweeping windblown snow from the porch. With a chuff he lunged to his feet and greeted her with an icy muzzle.

Her gaze darted out to the day as Bella's hands dove into his snowy ruff and scratched while he whined and shimmied excitedly back and forth. The sun was falling down over sparkling snow. The air was brisk and biting and instantly froze her breath, but the storm had passed and the mountainside seem settled in in the trough of a relieved sigh.

The scene was one of crisp, clean serenity.

She stepped to the side and urged the dog into the house and then closed the door with a shiver. Seth was whining and prancing in a listing shuffle, begging for more attention and she squatted down to pet him some more, half-surprised the tyrant wasn't barking his bratty orders.

The dog's rump thumped to the floor and rested his snout on her shoulder as he calmed, soaking up her relishing strokes like sunshine. She found all his favorite behind-the-ear spots while his tail beat out the rhythm of his pleasure. His fur was cold and wet but it was settling for both of them. Finally, Bella grabbed his face in her hands and pressed a kiss to his head before she stood, huffing a resetting breath from her cheeks.

This little interlude had been just what she needed.

Seth skipped happily in front of her and then scampered toward the fire and Bella idly noted he was moving a lot better today. The marathon sleep-in had been good for both of them.

"Off the rug, mutt!" Paul growled. "Get fucking down."

Bella rolled her eyes as she idly brushed some melting ice from her sweatshirt and made her way back to the fire. Seth was laying on the kitchen-side of the bear-rug with his muzzle on his paws and staring longingly at the food. Two flapjacks were now on Paul's plate and another in the fire.

"He's hungry," Bella frowned as she leaned down and petted Seth's head. The dog looked up with a lolling tongue as she passed.

"He's already eaten," Paul grumbled.

Bella sniffed as she made her way back to her place. "Do I want to know what?"

Paul looked up from where he was pulling the pan from the fire. "Probably not."

She lowered herself to the soft fur in front of her plate and pulled her feet under her, trying to get her head back into their conversation before her little break. Even in the emotional turmoil, there had been something he'd said that had piqued her curiosity enough that it had stayed with her.

She pulled the plate into her lap and scooted forward a little. "So how old are you?" she asked quietly. She'd been dying to know. Jasper had said the "lone wolf" up in these mountains was an old man and Paul certainly wasn't even close.

He didn't look up. "How old do I look?" his mouth oozed up as he shimmied the spatula under the edge of the hotcake with the soft scrape of metal.

Bella cocked her head as she considered him – albeit from the side. He looked like he was around her age actually – his face was rugged but time had only etched fine lines into his features. Yet beyond just his sheer size, he seemed older. Glimpses of the man behind the mask showed someone who'd been aged by burdens.

"Thirty five?" she guessed as he flipped the pancake over.

The man chuckled softly and glanced over his shoulder with a smirk.

"Am I close?" she huffed irritably.

"That's about right."

Bella squinted thoughtfully at him. "Have you lived up here all your life?" she asked carefully, trying to be subtle about her inquisition.

His eyes strummed over her face for a moment and his smile deepened into knowing as he turned back to the fire. The man was sharp, she'd give him that.

"There's honey," he said simply.

Bella's brow furrowed in confusion before her eyes fell to the tray and the amber jar. So he was just going to avoid-…

"I grew up on the Pacific Coast," he murmured.

Bella reached for the honey. "In Canada?"

Eyes staying, in the fire he shook his head. "Washington."

So he was originally American like she was. Bella slowly pulled the jar back toward her, waiting for more.

It didn't come.

She unscrewed the cap to find a little honey-dripper inside and tried to forge on with the attempt at elusive conversation. It would be nice to know a little more than just insults about this man she was stuck with – for at least another night.

"I grew up in Washington too. _DC_," she glanced up with a smile. "How long have you been up here?"

"A while," he muttered and flopped the pancake on his stack.

Bella licked her lips and valiantly soldiered on. "I always wanted to live in the country, though," she sniffed, absently rearranging her plate on the wood floor in front of her. She pulled the honey closer. "But my dad's in government so we never got farther than Virginia."

She hazarded a glance up at his silence. Paul's spine was stiff as he stared into the fire.

Biting her lip for a moment, she gathered up the courage to ask a question that was innocuous… in any other context. "What does your dad do?"

He turned his cheek with hot-poker eyes and a caustic smile branded into his face. "My old man's dead," he hissed, slick and savage.

Bella's eyes rounded as he burned into her with that stare, like he was daring her to ask more.

Swallowing uncomfortably, she lowered her gaze to her own hotcake.

Had he killed his father? Or was it just her overactive imagination? No matter what it was, she felt guilty for probing around in his wounds.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

His answer was instant and bitten out like a curse, "_I'm not_."

Chin tucked, Bella's eyes darted up from under her lashes to find him staring into the fire again.

She didn't know if he was trying to scare her or simply stonewalling her questions, but one thing was certainly clear: this conversation was over.

With a silent sigh, Bella leaned forward and plucked the handle of the honey-dripper from the jar and slowly pulled it out, watching the thick amber cling to the stick while she tried to figure out what her next steps should be with this man.

She pulled her plate from her lap closer to the jar and then drizzled honey slowly over the hotcake, drawing absent designs with the honey. It smelled delicious. Her stomach cramped with hunger and it was a perfect distraction from the enigma sitting several feet away.

She plunged the dipper into the jar again and pulled it up, sticking a finger in the lazy stream. Twisting her hand up, she ferried a honey-coated fingertip to her lips and suckled thoughtfully, swirling her tongue through the thick nectar. It was flowery sweet but grounded by an earthy waxy finish.

Softly humming her pleasure, she was slowly pulling her finger from her lips for another taste when instinct lifted her gaze.

From behind messy waves, Paul's cheek was turned and hungry eyes were eating her alive.

Her finger froze on her lips and for several stuttering heartbeats she could only stare like a deer caught in rifle sights. A chagrinned blush bled into her cheeks at whatever she'd done to deserve that expression.

Paul snapped his eyes soundly closed as he turned back to the fire exhaling an open-mouthed breath so heavy it bowed his head.

Bella pulled her confused finger from her mouth with a soft pop as her gaze was drawn to movement in his hands, balled into fists on his thighs. Minute tremors shimmied up bulky forearms, making the muscles slither in the firelight like they were fighting against an invisible tether.

Abruptly he yanked up his empty stew bowl and stood. Without a word, he stalked toward the bathroom, tossing it haphazardly to the floor with a harsh clatter along the way.

Bewildered, Bella watched him go as the dog lunged into the spinning metal bowl and started licking it clean.

Seconds later the bathroom door slammed closed.

Bella stared at the empty doorway for a moment, utterly perplexed.

Huffing a sigh, her head swung down to her plate and she stared at the honey laced hotcake. Her gaze slipped over to Paul's abandoned post and she picked up her plate and stood, stepping over the tray of supplies.

The worn wood was still warm from his body as she sat down. There was still another pancake left in the mixing bowl, so she went to work, scraping out the last of it onto the griddle.

Wrapping the rag around the handle like he had, she returned the pan to the fire and then picked up her plate and fork. While her thoughts churned, she cut off a bite of her food while her blind eyes stayed on the pan on the grate.

Flavor exploded in her mouth, bringing her back. The hotcake was sweet and buttery and dense and it settled heartily in her stomach with renewing warmth.

She absently nibbled through her plate until the edges of the pancake in the fire were dry and then she pulled the griddle from the grate and set it on the stone. Like Paul had done, she flipped it over onto the cast iron and let the residual heat cook the other side.

He still hadn't reappeared by the time she'd flipped it onto the tall stack, so she picked up both plates and ferried them to the table while Seth tried to cop a snuffle.

"_No_, Seth…" she chided, ruffling his fur affectionately as she returned to the hearth. She put the empty bowl, honey and coffee cups on the tray and picked it up, bringing it to the table too.

Seth's snout was trying to sneak up onto the table. "Go lay down, honey," she admonished.

He actually did what he was told and she sat down in her place feeling gratified.

Propping an elbow on the table, she rested her cheek on her fist as she jimmied free another bite and popped it in her mouth while she stared into the empty bathing room.

_Volatile_.

That's what he was. She had been leaning toward staying for the "one to two weeks" before her decision had been usurped from her, but after just a few minutes starting down that road she was wondering how she'd survive it.

It was _uncomfortable_ being around him.

They couldn't seem to have a conversation that didn't involve innuendo and she couldn't keep up with his mood changes for the life of her. She sighed softly as she cut another bite from the pancake with the edge of her fork.

The door to the toilet opened abruptly and Bella's gaze tanked onto her plate as she sat up straighter. She chewed woodenly as she watched Paul stalk into the kitchen to the sink in her periphery. The water whispered into the sink and she snuck a glance at that broad back where he was brusquely washing his hands.

Shaking the water from them, he spun around so suddenly that he caught her looking before she dropped her gaze to the plate. Biting her lip in chagrin, she hunched her shoulders and cut another piece from the pancake.

She felt his eyes on her for a moment before he crossed to the table and pulled out the chair at the opposite end with a harsh scrape of wood. Bella glanced up as he sat down and scooted in with thumps of the chair's legs. Jaw muscles bulging, he pulled the huge stack of pancakes toward him and then reached for the honey.

Irrational annoyance bled up through discomfort. She didn't know how it was possible for one person to elicit so many emotions: frustration, disgust, confusion, pity… the list went on. If she was going to survive another day with him – let alone a week – she was going to have to find a balance.

_Somewhere._

Bella glanced up under her lashes to find Paul drizzling honey over his food a little too intently.

Tipping her face up, she sat back in her chair and watched him openly. "What happened?" she asked flatly.

Paul's eyes didn't venture up from his plate but a smirk oozed into the side of his mouth. "You," he murmured.

Bella's brows collided. "What?"

Dark eyes cut up from under that heavy brow and held her gaze as he picked up his fork and cut through the stack with two rough chops and then speared the utensil through them.

"You're fucking killing me," he sniffed and then shoved the bite into that derisive smile and chewed like a challenge.

Bella's eyes darted back and forth between his for a moment, trying to read what was bothering him. _Something_ was.

Well, whether he was annoyed that she'd pushed him about his father or something else, the sentiment was certainly shared. "Yeah?" she raised saucy brows. "Well, you're driving me crazy too."

With another glare for good measure, she returned her attention to her food and hacked another bite free.

They ate in surly silence as the fire popped merrily away in the hearth and Seth drifted off into a grunting sleep. That single giant hotcake was hearty enough that even with several bites left on her plate her stomach was complaining with the load.

She looked up to find Paul _watching_ her with those hard eyes, himself clearly victorious over a mountain stack.

She frowned at that cocky smile as she pushed her chair back and picked up her plate. "Seth..."

At the fire, the dog's head lurched up.

"Throw those scraps my way, princess," the man purred, sitting back and pushing his plate to the side. "They 'got extra honey."

With a scoff, Bella strode down the table, grabbing the batter bowl and ladle on the way - seriously considering beating him with them.

But it was unnerving to be so close.

As she set her leftovers in front of him, her eyes got caught in that stare, loaded under lazy lids and the air seemed to crackle with static. A saccharine smile spread into the shadow scruff as she snatched his empty plate from the table and turned on her heel, fleeing the confusion that hung around him like cobwebs.

He could ensnare her with a glance and she didn't like the feeling.

Stomping toward the fire she grabbed up the stew bowl from the floor that Seth had licked clean. The _other _dog was still watching her with alert eyes, and she stooped to pet him apologetically before she grabbed the griddle from the hearth.

Arms loaded with dishes, she headed for the kitchen, pointedly ignoring the man's gaze that followed her like a shadow. She dumped them in the sink with a huff and then turned on the water.

It was frigid.

A plate and fork clattered into the sink as a large body passed briskly behind her and Bella cowered into the counter as she watched Paul head to the stove in the corner. Suddenly she noticed that a fire was crackling in its belly and there was a steaming metal pot on the top.

Snatching two rags from the rack above the counter, he grabbed the pot from the stove and turned around. Realizing that he was bringing it to the sink, she gathered the dishes onto one side of the basin and moved out of the way.

Paul set it in the sink and turned on the faucet, grabbing up the loofah sponge like she wasn't even there.

"I'll do the dishes," Bella grumbled.

He ignored her as he started rubbing soap on the sponge.

"You _cooked_," she pressed, inching closer.

Paul tipped his head cockily and met her gaze.

She switched her weight to one fed-up hip. "God, does _everything_ have to be a challenge with you? Just let me do the freaking dishes!"

With a creepy smile that would have made the Joker proud, he held out the loofah. Rolling her eyes she snatched it brusquely from his hand and roughly pushed him out of the way with her hip... that hit him somewhere mid-thigh.

Of course, Paul's big body didn't budge an inch and she was suddenly aware of just what an impetuous little antic it was - playful and familiar and everything they weren't. She could feel his surprised gaze on her, but she tucked her head, ignoring it along with his body heat that her skin seemed to guzzle like whiskey.

She refused to back down now.

"Out of the way," she ground out, shoving him again with about as much success.

That deep chuckle drizzled into her ear. "Pushy."

"Takes one to know one," she looked up with a saccharine smile… that promptly flopped off her lips.

He was _so close_.

And he was freaking gorgeous. Those fierce rugged features were the epitome of masculine perfection. Complex eyes staring at her from under that heavy brow, his full lips were kicked up into scruff making him look sexy, wry and feral, all at the same time. She didn't know if she wanted to fling herself at him or flee for her life.

His smile deepened under her wide-eyed stare and his head tipped the other way as his gaze went wandering over her face. She couldn't have moved even, if she'd wanted to.

And she didn't think she did.

Not even when a hand lifted slowly toward her hair. A fingertip caught a flyaway curl and ferried it back on his nail without touching her head. Still, chills swarmed over her scalp.

That hand hovered, centimeters from cupping the back of her head, as he leaned toward her. Her eyes closed in either rebellion or surrender as he lowered his face to her ear and she hear the crisp crinkle of his tongue on his lips.

"I like pushy," he caressed the words in a whisper that sluiced warm air down her skipping pulse.

Paul drew a quiet breath through his nose and she hitched up a shying shoulder with the uncontrollable shiver down her spine...

But he was already turning away.

A velvet chuckle did funny things to her stomach as he shimmied past her, so close his body dragged along her back, leaving a burn in its wake.

She watched him go out of the corner of her eye and then turned back to the sink. Taking a shaky open-mouthed breath, she stared at the water and sponge for a moment.

At least he was back to infuriating abnormal. Sniffing a laugh she tried to reset and wet the scrubber in the warm water.

Her attempts weren't very successful.

How could they be when her skin was still tingling under _three layers_ of clothes from where he'd brushed by her? She was _attracted_ to him – there was no denying that – but she couldn't help but wonder if she capitulated to an affair, if he'd suddenly lose his interest, just like-…

_Why was she even thinking about this? _

She'd only slept with two men in her life – the first one dropped her like a hot potato and the second beat the crap out of her. A psychotic monster was out there somewhere hunting her and _she_ was thinking about jumping into bed with a stranger?

She hated sex!

_Didn't she?_

"I think that one's clean."

A languid lazy laugh made her freeze as Paul passed behind her in an eddying breeze.

She _was_ scrubbing the hell out of the plate in her hands.

Annoyed at… _everything_, Bella set the clean plate in the sink and then started on the batter bowl, rinsing it out under the cold water before plopping it into the hot and washing it out. She did the same with the other dishes as she tried to ignore how acutely her body kept tabs on man puttering in the kitchen around her.

She watched in her periphery as Paul put supplies away from the counters, squatting to open cabinets or reaching up to hang pans on the rack.

This was what was so hard about this situation: on top of being the most frustrating and infuriating man she'd ever known, he was also the most clever and intriguing... and the _only_ one ever to get such a rise out of her body.

She found herself wanting to know more of what lurked under that bravado. But trying to keep up any semblance of normal conversation between them felt like trying ride a bike through sand – arduous and unsteady.

She supposed that it was only natural for two strangers with so many secrets.

Yet he didn't seem the least bit curious about hers. There were no prying asks or veiled questions like Sam and Leah down in town. Maybe that was just protocol for a place like this - Jasper had said everyone up here was running from something.

Well, if she was _considering_ staying here until the snow melted, she needed to find a way to break this tension. She didn't want to be trapped in a perpetual game of badminton, volleying comebacks and insults back and forth while barely knowing her opponent's name.

Pasts and family were obviously off limits but maybe she should take a different approach and get him talking about something less personal…

Bella plunged the loofah into the hot water and scrubbed the next plate. "I finished the book about Inuit myths," she began, oh, so casually. "So what kind of stories do your people tell?"

She saw the man freeze where he had squatted by the stove but she kept her eyes riveted stubbornly on the dish in her hand.

" 'More of the same bullshit," he spat.

A harsh clang had her turn to where Paul had ripped open the stove door and was shoving more wood into the fire. He pushed the fuel into place with a poker and then slammed it closed with gusto. Standing, he turned and met her gaze with a disparaging smirk.

Was _everything_ off limits?

Exasperated, Bella dropped the plate into sink as she leaned her elbows on the counter and stared him down. "So what? We can't talk about _anything_ except your lame come-on's."

Paul crossed his arms over his chest. "You think they're lame?" he arched a brow, but his smile turned patronizing.

She glared at him. "Very," she huffed and turned back to the sink. With a piqued shake of her head, she tore up a handful of silverware and plunged them into the hot water.

"You smell like you're lying, princess."

The whisper was suddenly right at her ear and Bella nearly jumped out of her skin as a long arm snatched the rag hanging from the rack above her. She whipped around but Paul had disappeared in nothing but a swirl of air.

"Rinse 'em off and I'll dry."

That dusky murmur made her spin around to her other side, where Paul was leaning his hips back against the counter, with one foot propped over the other like he'd been waiting for a bus for hours. His mouth was kicked up while his eyes chortled at her expense.

How the hell could he move so fast?

She blinked at him like a fool – disoriented anyway and now torn between wanting to deck him for that self-satisfied smirk or shrink from that looming muscle. He was no more than a foot away and he was huge. She barely came up to curve of his bulky shoulder.

She edged half a step away. From scary to seductive to smart-ass, he was switching up the game so fast Bella could barely see straight.

And it wasn't fair.

Paul cocked his head with that crisp movement that made a wavy lock fall over one eye as his lips thinned with the spread of his crooked smile. He could be either enjoying watching her squirm… or contemplating cooking her for dinner.

Just for something to do to escape that gaze, she turned back to the sink and yanked on the cold trickle of water. What was it about him that could make the bottom drop out of her world with just a look?

The sink full of soapy dishes was now the recipient of her full-on ire as she shoved a metal plate into water.

And just what did the freak mean when he said she _smelled_ like she was lying? She was just opening her mouth to ask him when Paul took the dish from her hand.

"So the Quileute tell stories of a trickster god named Q'waeti'," he began, turning back to lean against the counter.

Bella grabbed up another plate and ran it under the water, trying not to ruin the fragile moment.

"He roamed the world transforming animals, creating people and teaching them how to live," he continued as he turned and set the plate on the counter on his other side.

She handed him the next one with barely a glance, hoping he kept going.

"When he got to our lands there was nothing but a bunch of wolves."

Bella's hands slowed as she reached into the sink for the bowl.

Paul drew in a breath beside her as he roughly toweled off the plate. "He transformed the six wolf packs into people who became the Quileute. 'Said they'd be brave and strong because they came from wolves," he coughed a laugh and set the plate down on the other and then turned back.

He met her gaze and Bella blinked out of her thoughts, quickly returning to the bowl she'd left languishing in nerveless hands.

"But the men fought among themselves for control of the tribe," he murmured lowly, and Bella looked up to find him blindly tracing down her profile like he was lost in thought.

Abruptly his eyes snapped into focus in hers. "So he cursed them," he whispered.

Bella's eyes darted between his, intense and unreadable.

"Though some say it was a gift," he laughed, his lips curling up in derision. "Strength, immortality, power. The first-born of each of the six families would be able to walk as both wolf and man for the low bargain price of pain."

Brow knitting, she absently put the bowl in his outstretched hand. "What do you mean?" she breathed.

Holding her gaze, he pulled the metal vessel into the towel. "Shapeshifters," he smirked. "Though each time they changed skin, it would hurt like shit."

Bella blinked rapidly, struggling between racing thoughts and trying to read all the shadows lurking in those hooded eyes.

"You're wasting water," he sniffed, tipping his chin toward the tap.

Turning back to the dishes she picked up the other bowl and rinsed it off.

"They called them _protectors_," that deep voice continued sarcastically. "They kept peace at home and fought like the fucking beasts they were when the tribe waged war."

He plucked the bowl from her hand and Bella picked up the handful of silverware and quickly rinsed them off. She yanked off the faucet as she turned to him and held out her fist of utensils.

Paul turned back from setting the bowl on the counter.

"So what happened to them?" she asked quietly.

Arching a brow he reached out and deliberately wrapped his fingers around hers as he took the bundle of utensils. But his touch was molten - it felt like fire fused their skin together.

Bella ripped her hand free with a gasp. Her gaze fell to her fingers, halfway expecting to find blisters.

"They aged out."

Bella looked up from her hand, her brows pushing together. "I thought you said they were immortal."

Paul was watching her as he idly squeezed the silverware in the towel.

"What's man's biggest weakness?" his mouth tipped into a predator's leer.

There were a 1001 answers to that, but they all pretty much had to do with the hunger glinting in his eyes.

Bella took a subtle step back under the guise of leaning against the counter and made a half-hearted attempt at cheek, "I didn't think you'd admit any."

His smile briefly evened into appreciative as his gaze dropped to his hands. He rubbed the silverware a little more while private thoughts flitted across his face and then abruptly dumped it on the counter with a clatter.

"Women."

He turned slowly back around with black-hole eyes.

Bella could barely draw breath from around that suffocating stare. His gaze was completely unreadable as it scoured over her face, but it left her feeling raw and wounded.

"The gods in their _infinite wisdom_," he spat the consonants against his teeth. "Gifted each of them with a perfect mate. The _one woman_ they could love more than being the gods they were. More than the invincible power and eternal life," he hissed like the words were bitter on his tongue. "One by one, they fell at her feet, happily handing them their soul for the peace buried in her flesh. The first seed planted in her womb would birth the same curse and it started over again."

Bottomless eyes returned to hers and swallowed her whole. Suddenly there wasn't enough air in the room. Bella's swallow squeaked in her throat as she wrapped herself tighter, confused by his intensity.

His eyes paced between hers several times and then his face cracked in smile that was as spooky as it was patronizing. "Until the world finally grew up and left bullshit fairytales behind."

With that, he pushed off the counter and the spell shattered but left festering splinters under her skin. She watched him stalk across the kitchen as she tried to make sense of his words.

She turned and leaned back against the counter as she considered the man prowling across the room with that dangerous sway of shoulders. He certainly told a compelling tale – she'd been spellbound.

But now that she really thought about it, it sounded more like some stupid fable warning men about losing their machismo to marriage.

"So there were six guys who were able to shapeshift into wolves?" she asked, putting it all together. "But once they found their wives… _poof_…they just changed into men?"

"Both man and wolf started aging with 'em," the man called out over his shoulder as he opened a cabinet. "Until they didn't have the strength for switching skins."

Bella's face screwed up with her thoughts. "But their kids took over?"

"Sons." Paul turned with a snarky smile and a box in his hands. "That's what the _stories_ say."

"So where are they now?" she pressed, her curiosity was getting the better of her.

He raised patronizing brows as he crossed toward her. "It's _a story, _princess_. _Get it?"

"I _know_," Bella retorted, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "But there's no ending?"

Paul rolled his eyes as he set the box down on the table. "Happy endings are for the White Man," he sniffed as he dug around through supplies. "And people get sick of fighting. They lay down their weapons and pick up a bottle and drift happily off into oblivion on their little scrap of Rez land."

He looked up with bitterness curling his lip. "They didn't want the myth and magic anymore so the stories disappeared… just like their gods."

She sighed sadly. "So just another case in the long line of cultural colonialization…"

Paul's eyes narrowed. "What?"

Bella pushed off the counter. "Y'know, when traditions and language get hijacked _in addition_ to the land…" she sniffed as she crossed to the table. "Our vampire culture's sucked a bunch of people dry."

Paul's gaze skipped over her face for a moment and then he nodded, returning his attention to his box.

Leaning her hands on the table she locked her elbows and dangled in a swaying fidget. "That's why I like to hear people's stories," she murmured as she watched him dig out tape, gauze and a spaghetti mess of cloth strips. "No one listens anymore."

His eyes darted up from under his lashes. "But _you_ do," he smirked.

Bella held that challenge. She did.

Even strangers seemed drawn to tell her their most intimate stories. She'd always taken the trust as a compliment, but her husband had disparaged that she just had a sign painted on her forehead that said "sucker."

Well, she was leaving him behind.

"If people _talk_," she bit out of a saccharine smile.

Paul's eyes darted over her face. His lips spread in a grin that showed a sliver of teeth before it cracked in a private chuckle. He pushed the box out of the way of the supplies he'd selected and then rounded the table.

Still hanging from her arms she watched him go out of the corner of her eye and then turned her attention to what he'd laid out. It looked like he was changing Seth's dressing. She leaned over the table and grabbed up a glass jar, propping her elbows on the wood as she turned it over in her hands. The victory of getting him to talk stoked her confidence and made her relaxed almost to the point of jaunty.

Unscrewing the cap she idly sniffed and then pushed off the table as Paul strode past.

"Mountain tobacco," he sniffed as he squatted and set the pot of warm water on the floor. "Seth!"

"What's mountain tobacco?" Bella asked, straightening and screwing on the cap.

"Help's with the healing," he murmured as he slipped down to the floor. Seth crept around the couch with ears plastered back and tail wagging low and uncertain.

"C'mere, mutt." Paul dove a hand into the wolf-dog's fur and pulled him closer and the animal promptly fell to his belly in limp protest.

With an irritated huff, he looked up at where Bella was seconds away from tackling him in defense of her dog. "Get down and help."

"Excuse me?" her mouth popped open in outrage.

"Help," he popped the 'P' saucily as the dog whined and scrabbled against the floor.

"Would it kill you to ask nicely?" she snapped.

Paul rolled his eyes. "Excuse me, your highness," he whined in a cloying croon. "Would you please descend from your throne and help me… _bandage your fucking dog_?" he ground the last words out as he turned and bared teeth at Seth's anxious struggle.

The poor thing instantly seized up in a cower.

It broke her heart.

"Shh. C'mere honey," she soothed, falling to her knees and ignoring the man. "It's okay Seth."

Paul's big hand released him and with a sidelong glance at the tyrant, he shimmied toward her on his belly while he licked his muzzle.

Bella sat cross-legged and pulled his big head into her lap as she stroked his damp fur. With a disparaging sniff, Paul stood and she flipped a glare up after him as she continued to coo and comfort the dog.

Seconds later, Paul congealed back to the floor with the supplies from the table. "Get him on his side," he mumbled setting the items on the floor.

"C'mon baby," she coaxed Seth over onto his good side.

Paul scooted in closer as leaned forward and arranged the dog on the floor.

Bella kept her gaze trained intently on the wolfy head in her lap. She stroked her fingers up his snout and then scratched soothingly behind his ears while the man started on the bandage taped to his side. But it was with _gentle_ fingers that he worked the dressing free from the dog's fur.

Still the beast yelped.

Paul's hand froze as his gaze darted up to the beast and then gave him a brisk reassuring pet on his ruff before he returned to his task.

Venturing a glance up from under her lashes, she watched his profile. His lips were pressed under, making his scruff flare while his hands worked over the animal with the same patience and care that he'd used to wash his hands yesterday in his little seduction.

Seth whimpered again and he paused with a glance up that caught Bella watching. She quickly lowered her gaze as she continued to stroke comfort into his fur.

That he wasn't immune to the suffering was reassuring. At least he wasn't a _total_ heartless ass.

The bandage was pulled off Seth's side to reveal three deep angry gashes torn through his pelt and Bella's breath caught in her throat.

Paul quickly grabbed a rag and dipped it in the recycled warm soapy water and started blotting the wounds clean. His feet twitching but still holding valiantly still, Seth started whining and whimpering. Bella fell over his head, burying her face in his ruff so she wouldn't have to watch as she continued to murmur soothing nothings.

Seth quieted as she held him tightly and clenched her eyes closed on pressing tears. She'd only known this dog a little more than a week and he'd taken on a giant wolf to protect _her_.

It was deeply symbolic.

The sorrow metastasized into silent sobs.

It brought up all the other times she'd wished she'd had someone step in and protect her from a monster. Or maybe just herself. _She'd_ made the decision to marry the man she had. Jacob had begged her, her father disapproved, but she'd been so hell-bent on security and acceptance, she'd ignored the fact they came from a bargain with the devil himself.

She was so glad she hadn't dragged either of them into this mess – they would have tried to protect her too and she doubted _they'd_ have survived it.

"He's healing up good."

A dusky murmur gave her some hope to cling to. Sniffling into Seth's fur, she tried to get herself together. She sat up and brusquely smeared the back of her wrist over her eyes and then looked up.

Paul was taping a new bandage into place… and watching her from under his brow. Bella's eyes drifted sheepishly off to the side, embarrassed by her emotions, but he didn't stop staring.

Finally Bella returned to his gaze with a soggy scowl.

He coughed a laugh and returned to taping up the dog with a shake of his head.

"What?" she snapped tartly.

He looked up and his gaze slalomed down her face until she tucked her chin. "You're just so-…" he chuffed a disbelieving breath that left his lips parted as he returned to the dressing.

Distinctly unsatisfied with that answer, she glowered at him a moment. "Weak?" she sniffed. Or maybe stupid, pathetic… she'd heard them all many times over the last decade.

Paul looked up slowly and she blanched at the hardness of his gaze. "_Nice_," he bit the word out succinctly and his mouth kicked up to the side. "I don't really know what to do with _nice_."

He chuckled to himself and rather unceremoniously returned to his task, tearing another piece of tape off with his teeth

Not quite sure what had just happened, Bella pulled her long underwear sleeve over the heel of her hand and wiped her nose. Drawing in a resetting breath, she gave the dog some more love.

"Okay, now the leg," he muttered scooting closer.

Too close for comfort, in fact.

Sitting cross-legged himself, his knee brushed against hers as he pulled the pot across the floor. She felt irrationally aware of that centimeter of jeans so casually touching hers as Paul started unraveling the strip of cloth from the dog's forepaw.

Contemplating a shift away, Bella glanced down at Seth whose eyes were drooping closed he was so utterly relaxed in her lap. His tail thumped idly on the floor at her gaze – he was much less anxious about his leg. Her gaze swept down to the forepaw and she could see why: several puncture marks bit into the fur but were already closing up. It was like the beast chomped and released. It wasn't nearly as bad as the damage to his side.

She smoothed a hand over his fur as Paul wet a rag in her periphery. Suddenly the intimacy of the moment slapped her across the face. Sitting cross-legged on the floor side by side in this comfortably rustic old cabin – and so close, his knee pushed into hers every time he shifted to reach for supplies – they were caring for this animal together.

"Do you have any stories?"

Bella blinked her attention from where Paul was smearing ointment on the leg. His eyes were trained on his hands.

"Not really," she whispered. "My mom used to tell me stories about growing up on the farm."

Paul leaned over and grabbed up the cloth strips, pulling them into his lap. "She must be worried," he murmured to as he worked them loose from their tangle.

Bella stroked soothingly over the dog's sandy fur. "She died when I was a girl," she whispered.

His hands paused and she looked up to where Paul's dark eyes were studying her from behind a curtain of dark waves. His gaze slipped back down to the dog as he shook a strip free.

"How about your mom?" Bella ventured.

Paul blew an irritated breath from his cheeks. " 'Left a long time ago."

Suckling on her lip she stole a glance at that stoic profile, searching for more and finding nothing. Paul picked up the foreleg and started awkwardly bandaging - winding the cloth was really a two-handed job.

"Here, I'll hold it," she mumbled.

She caught his glance out of the corner of his eye, but ignored it as she basically leaned into his lap to hold the paw. She could feel his breath, slow and deep, fluttering across her hair as he wrapped the cloth around the leg. Each pass around made their hands brush and it was all she could do to keep her grip steady. Each touch of his skin felt like an electric jolt and it was all she could do not to flinch each round.

Finally, that hand dove in to brusquely muss over the dog's head. "All done."

With an excited yowl, Seth exuberantly twisted up to four paws and went straight for Bella, lapping and snuffling like a wild thing.

Bella giggled as she fended him off…

Until he was yanked away. "Easy," Paul growled, pulling the animal toward him with a fist in his ruff.

But other than ears plastering back, Seth seemed unperturbed as he stretched forward and tried lap at his face with excited whines. "You like her, don't you, mutt?" he murmured as he roughly rubbed both sides of the animal's head.

Gaze pinned to the man's face, Bella absently scooted out of the way of the dog's whipping tail. She could almost imagine he was talking to her and not the dog… until he looked up with that devilish leer.

"Well, she was humpin' on _this_ dog last night."

Coughing denial, Bella pushed up to her feet.

" 'Think you're shit out of luck, boy," Paul continued his assholery as he scratched the dog into bliss.

"Of the two of you, I like Seth much better," she bit out as she backed up to the table.

Paul looked up with a jump of brow and gifted her with a breathy purr, "Kinky."

"You are so-…!" words stalled on her tongue as she whipped around and slapped her palms on her heated cheeks.

Behind her, chuckles rolled around the room at her expense.

Bella's hands fell to the table as she stared blindly off into space while her annoyance percolated in her gut like coffee. She'd never met someone so aggravating. Between this teasing, his pushy overtures, covert wounds and incongruous flashes of actual humanity she didn't know what to think.

And then there was her wayward attraction. Just the _tone of his voice_ made her belly flood with heat – no matter what stupid thing he was saying.

Still, she was beginning to wonder if she'd survive with her sanity staying up here another "week or two."

A pot was set on the table beside her, making her glance thoughtlessly at it before she snapped back into her body and scrambled away from the big man who'd put it there.

Paul was biting down on a shit-eating grin while he wound a strip of cloth around his knuckles like he was preparing for a fight.

"What are you doing?" the thought jumped her lips.

He tipped his head, still watching her as he looped the cloth around his thumb and hand in a figure-eight. "Gotta chop some wood." Then he went to pick up the end with his teeth.

Bella didn't think. "I'll tie it," she huffed, holding out a brisk palm.

Paul's mouth spread in a leer as he stretched his hand across the table and she was instantly regretting the impulsive offer.

She tried to ignore that overt stare as she reached out to the two ends of the cloth.

But it was impossible to ignore his big hand… and that she was practically holding it. Dusted with fine dark hairs, his fingers were strong and square, ending in nails work-worn into the quick. There was nothing graceful about them, but they were steady. They were definitely working hands that had no qualms about grabbing life by the balls and yanking hard.

Yet she knew they could have a patient touch.

Could they be gentle? Caring?

How would those callouses feel dragging along her skin?

Bella stopped herself - why did _everything_ about him make her think of his touch? On her body.

Every inch of it.

Pressing her lips together she quickly yanked a knot into the wrap, using a little more strength than necessary, and then jerked her hands back.

She narrowed her eyes at that knowing smirk and then grabbed the pot off the table, spinning on her heel toward the kitchen so fast water nearly sloshed over the side.

"We're not done with that yet, princess," he called after her.

She assumed he was talking about the water, but then again everything seemed like a covert... _something_.

Bella hadn't really had any plans for the pot– she was just looking for any excuse to get her distance - but suddenly pouring it over his damn head sounded like an excellent idea. She set it in the sink and stared out the window for a moment at the sparkling snow.

She felt so discombobulated, even after a good night's rest.

With_ him. _Oh_, God! _

Huffing a breath from her nose she turned around to find Paul trailing after her as he lazily wound another strip of cloth around the other hand. That smirk was locked in place but there was something still about those eyes.

They bored under her skin as he stopped a few feet away and held out his wrapped hand in silent petition.

And the moment seemed suddenly - _uncomfortably_ - intimate.

She was doing something for him… _caring_ for him. He was _letting_ her. It was an overture that felt as loaded as washing her hair, and she didn't understand it.

Clenching her teeth, she sniffed an attempt at annoyance and then reached up to the dangling strips of cloth.

Paul's chin was tipped down and he stared at her from under his lashes with a mischievous smile hiking up the corner of his mouth.

Bella tried just to get her damn fingers to work. Her gaze was drawn up thick wrists that swelled into bulky forearms and she was struck with the urge to smooth her palm up under the messily rolled flannel to find more.

And she could do exactly that… if she wanted to. She could find out how pitifully far she could wrap her fingers around that sturdy wrist, pull that hand in to her cheek and whisper a single word into his palm and he'd happily show her just how that touch felt on every inch of her skin.

Chills spilled down her back like embers, igniting the tinder smoldering between her thighs and Bella blinked soundly.

_What the freaking hell was wrong with her? _

She seemed to have forgotten how to swallow and the awkward buckle in her throat squeaked as she glanced up into frighteningly bottomless eyes. They were lapping over her face, siphoning her innermost thoughts from each pore.

Shrinking back, she tucked her chin and reached up to tie a sloppy knot in record time. She stepped hastily back against the counter and shoved her hands into her armpits.

But he didn't leave. Paul canted his head in that cocky way of his as his eyes continued to brazenly strum down her face.

Like he owned her.

Jutting a rebellious chin, she jerked her face off to the side and stared at the front door, mentally screaming at him to take it.

He leaned down instead, slow and deliberate.

Bella's skin erupted in prickling chills but she stubbornly refused to move. Her eyelashes fluttered as he leaned in to her temple, close enough that his messy waves brushed her forehead.

His whisper was low and luscious by her ear, "Thanks, princess."

Teeth clenched to keep them from chattering, she hashed out the words, "I thought I told you to stop calling me that."

She could hear him lick his lips. "You did," he whispered. And then he took a slow and brazen whiff.

It was more than she could take.

Bella jerked away as she spun around to face him. "Are you _sniffing_ me?!" she accused hotly.

Paul straightened as his lips spread in a molasses smile that was as good as confirmation. "I'll be outside."

With that, he swung around and sauntered toward the door, his gait loose and liquid like he was pleased with himself. Bella glowered after him and dug her hands into her pits harder. She watched him sweep up the axe propped against the wall and then yank the door open.

As he stepped out into the sunny snow – dressed only in flannel – he turned just enough to ghost a wink over his shoulder.

Then closed the door behind him.

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_Review if you like._


	5. Running from Wolves

As promised: "soonish"

This one jerks you around a little, running the gamut from slapstick to war with a bunch of stuff in between.

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Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy.

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**Chapter 5 – Running from Wolves**

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Miles beyond aggravation – and any other recognizable landmarks – Bella groaned through gritted teeth as she raked her hands over her head, digging her nails into the crown.

For several seconds she could do nothing but hurl daggers at the door before her gaze raked over the empty house. Seth was watching her from the fire, with perky ears and doggy oblivion.

"He is such a **freaking jerk**!" she shrieked at her captive audience as she stormed toward the table. She picked up the supplies, one after another and veritably hurled them back into the box.

"I'm never going to last a week being cooped up with that ass," he muttered as she grabbed up the box and stomped across the room.

"I swear he's-… God, how could anyone-… He makes me want to-…" She continued to rant in senseless sentence fragments as she stood on tiptoes to try to reach the shelf she'd seen him take it from.

It was hopeless.

Grinding out frustration in a growl, she shoved the box onto a shelf that was actually at a reasonable height, carelessly pushing into a mess of supplies with a harsh jangle, and then slammed the cabinet door.

She was literally seething. And she wasn't exactly sure why.

Turning her ire on the house, she crashed around the room, mindlessly straightening things – making the bed, folding blankets, tidying supplies on tables.

Finally, she stalked over to the library and yanked a random book from the shelf and threw herself down in the easy chair.

After twenty minutes of alternately watching Seth sleep or staring at the unintelligible page (she still didn't know what title she had in her hands), Bella slammed the book closed on her lap.

Seth's eyes blinked open and his brows arched with lazy interest.

Bella pursed her lips at him for a moment and then her gaze swept out to the insultingly cheery day sparkling outside the windows.

"I'm sick of being stuck in here," she grumbled, shoving the book into the side of the chair and standing. Seth picked up his head and Bella stopped to scratch behind his ears on the way to throwing one the last two logs into the fire. They had burned through all the wood stacked at the hearth.

"C'mon, boy," she murmured as she crossed toward the door. Seth lunged up to his feet with instant enthusiasm and followed her.

Bella wiped a palm over the frost turned fog on the window and peered outside. All she could see was that magnificent snow-covered view from his porch. She craned from side to side but didn't find the man anywhere.

That was a good thing as far as she was concerned. With a snitty huff, she pulled her parka from the coatrack by the door and shimmied into it while the dog scampered to and fro, whipping an exuberant tail.

With an indulgent smile at his antics, she tucked her braid into her jacket and pulled up the hood and then found her mittens draped on the back of the chair. She sat down and pushed her feet into the boots she'd bought from the couple in town and then stood, armed and ready to take on the world.

She barely got the door open before Seth bulldozed her out of the way in his haste. Giggling, Bella caught herself on the doorframe as the dog leaped off the rail-less porch and into the snow. He immediately started racing back and forth like he was on crack and those giggles turned into full-on laughter.

His childlike exuberance was just the antidote to cooped-up combustion.

Bella pulled the door closed behind her as her gaze swept the scenery. Miles of unsullied wilderness stretched out before her, scrubbed to sparkling pure by the snow with only the stoic evergreens giving the mountains texture. The air was crisp but not frigid like it had been that night and the sky was washed to baby blue. Silence shimmered like the snow.

It was breathtakingly beautiful and wild.

Seth suddenly clambered up onto the porch, interrupting her reverie with encouraging chuffs, his tail wagging his body. She tried to grab him for pets him with her mittened hands but he was too frenetic. Seconds later he went charging back out into the snow, throwing beckoning glances behind him.

He wanted her to play.

How long had it been?

A slow taffy smile stretched over her face and, in a burst of energy, Bella took a clunky running jump off the porch that was nearly level with the drifts. She fell clumsily into was sticky and soft and was promptly attacked by a dog who dove in to root into her side with snuffling yowls.

Grinning like a fool, she pushed up to her feet as Seth jumped around her and then tore off along the mountainside toward the kitchen-side of the house, his gleeful barks echoing out into the valley. Hood falling back, Bella galloped after him through the hip-deep snow as fast as she could while she laughed her freaking head off. The exertion burned off the staleness of being shut in for so long.

It felt so good.

The freedom felt even better.

Seth apparently felt the same. He was leaping and twisting in a spirited frolic by the tree-line.

Bella was panting from the effort of plowing toward him when suddenly he seemed to remember she was there. With a bright bark he tore after her, loping through the snow with his tongue lolling out.

Even with that happy-go-lucky face, adrenaline charged through her veins at seeing such a powerful animal charging her with such speed. Bella whipped around and started sprinting back toward the house through the path plowed by both of them, her shrieking laughter trailing behind her.

But eventually boots and uneven terrain conspired against her and she went tumbling into the snow. Giggling breathlessly at herself, she turned over to the sky only to be pounced on a second later by a massive dog.

Pinned helplessly, she squealed and whipped her head back and forth as the animal slobbered zealously all over her face…

Until, with a yelp, that crushing weight was abruptly yanked off of her.

Bella cracked open squinched eyes to find the huge dog dangling from the fist of a man even bigger. Paul's teeth were bared at the animal who was cowering away as best he could with flattened ears and his tail between hind legs trying to curl into a fetal position six inches off the ground.

"Let him go!" Bella snapped, pushing up to her elbows.

Paul's lips lowered over his teeth but that smoking stare still burned a hole through the poor beast. The muscles jumped on either side of his nose and then the man tossed the animal out over the snow like he weighed as much as a kitten. Seth whimpered and stayed crouched where he fell.

Bella wanted to storm and berate, but instinct held back the flood behind the press of lips. The look on the man's face was frightening.

Finally Paul drew dagger eyes from his victim and turned them on Bella.

His nostrils flared with a puff of baleful dragon steam. "Never run from a wolf," he hissed, just as serpentine and deadly.

Bella tried to gather her tattered composure around her. "He's only half," she bit out defensively.

Paul sniffed a laugh as a smile bled over his lips, so humorless that it was creepy. "Doesn't matter," he murmured. "Wild things can't be tamed."

With that he stretched down his hand.

Bella narrowed her eyes at him for a moment… and then thrust her mitten up into his grip. He pulled her up so effortlessly she felt like she free-fell off the ground to her feet.

Bella yanked her hand free as she took a step back. "In other words, kinda like you?" she sniped.

"Now you got it, princess," he smirked and then turned and stalked with long strides that were apparently immune to the snow.

In fact, all of him seemed to be. It was still freezing by any sane person's standards and he was dressed in nothing but a flannel. As the heat from her exertion started to dissipate, she was starting to feel just how cold the snow was, seeping through her jeans.

Absently dusting herself off, she turned to where Seth was shuffling toward her on his belly with penitent laps to his muzzle. She squatted down and held out her arms and he gingerly pushed into her embrace.

"Don't let him kill your buzz, honey," she murmured, rubbing her mittens briskly all over his snowy fur. She stood with a chipper slap to her snowy jeans. "C'mon," she urged.

In that endearing doggy way, Seth instantly forgot the trauma and started bouncing at her side as she turned in the direction the man had gone.

She'd fallen in front of the porch and he'd headed for the other side. Bella trudged hesitantly around the corner.

A weathered barn and several rustic outbuildings were scattered around a courtyard on this windowless side of the house creating a scene that epitomized pastoral. Trees and a craggy hillside loomed beyond and a tall windmill squeaked as it spun blithely through the billows of smoke trailing from the cabin's chimney.

Paul had shoveled the entire courtyard down to the cookies-and-cream dirt and sitting in the middle of it was a large tree-stump with an axe embedded wood. The man himself was hauling logs out of a ginormous and immaculate pile stacked in an open shed.

Seth plopped down beside her as Bella stepped into the cleared circle and rubbed her nose absently with the back of her mitten. "Do you need any help?"

Paul coughed a laugh and turned over his shoulder with an arched brow like she'd personally insulted his manhood.

Bella rolled her eyes. "Geez, _fine_," she huffed, turning her back on aggravation incarnate. "_Jerk_," she added under her breath.

She turned back to Seth who was immediately up to four paws and prancing in anticipation. Bella decided to play with the _fun_ wild thing and ignore the other.

"C'mon," she piped and tromped back into the snow.

God, it had been years since she'd played in the snow – or played at all, really. The last time she could remember was this blizzard in high school when she and Jacob had gone out at 2 am and had horsed around in an epic snowman-making contest.

This snow was perfect for the venture too.

While she rolled the first ball, Seth cavorted around her – digging hyperly, pouncing on invisible prey and snapping snow in exuberant jaws – but all at a respectful distance away.

Deciding to keep the scale reasonable, Bella pushed a knee-high ball into the shoveled courtyard and then started on another while Paul dumped wood by the stump with a crash that echoed off the mountain. By the time she was lugging the head over to her scraggly little sculpture Paul had amassed a respectable pile of wood and was sharpening his axe.

One booted foot propped up on the stump and his forearm on his knee, his sweat-damp waves danced over his face with the jerking thrust of the file in his hand. He looked like the poster-perfect model for rugged with worn jeans that covetously hugged that ass and his shirt straining against the pull of broad shoulders. Crisp and competent, each thrust quivered with potential like a harnessed animal.

He paused suddenly and his eyes slipped up from his blade as he wiped his hair from his brow with the back of a dirty wrapped hand.

Embarrassed to being caught staring, Bella's eyes hit the ground as a blush jumped at the chance for more humiliation.

The man's sleek chuckle rippled over the squeaky cadence of the windmill. "Ready to ask, princess?"

Bella looked up with a scowl and quickly made something up.

"Yeah. For some sticks for my snowman," she snapped tartly, tipping her head toward her pitiful creation.

Paul's laugh burst free in a snort at her genius (she knew it was lame, but she'd been desperate). Tossing his hair back with a jerk of his chin, he stepped down from the stump and spread his arms open wide, tools and all.

"Come an' get it," he smirked.

Bella snorted in flagrant contrast to the heat that charged to both cheeks and crotch, but she refused to go back on the ruse. Rubbing her mittens on her snow-caked thighs, she strode with conviction to the pile of logs.

Still chuckling, Paul flipped his axe once and caught it by the handle with show-off dexterity as she stooped by the farthermost log and pulled free two splintered sticks of wood. She stood with a smug smile and turned back to her snowman...

Seth was just finishing up his chomping attack on a formless pile of white.

"SETH!" she screamed.

The dog froze with alert ears, but instead of remorse, mischief sparkled in those eyes.

"Se-_eeeth_," she ground out in reproach.

But completely unrepentant, he pounced down on playful forepaws, taunting her with a wiggling butt.

Bella barked outrage and the dog took off like a rocket. She turned on the man now freely laughing at her expense.

"You _made_ him do it!" she blustered.

He splayed his hands out in a parody of wide-eyed innocence.

Bella couldn't help the laughter that pounced free and Paul's face cracked with a smug grin.

Smothering her smile with a theatrical scowl, Bella stomped off toward her massacred masterpiece. She hated to admit it, but this was actually kind of fun. Being outside made this freaky thing between them a little less intimidating and, hell, it felt just plain awesome to laugh.

Riding the high, she scooped up some snow from the late snowman and balled it up in her mitten. Seth was charging back and forth like a maniac, his wolfy tongue lolling like he was chortling at her expense.

With a grunt, she hurled it with her best attempts to hit the moving target.

It was, of course, an ultimate fail, but the dog leaped into the air caught it with a snapping bark and impressive acrobatics. Giggling she plowed out into the snow a little more and dug up another handful and patted it into a ball.

Seth bounded toward her with perky ears and she threw it again.

_God, her aim sucked._

Seth compensated effortlessly for her dismal throw with a flying jump to the side. And another snowball was being chomped into snowflakes as she stooped for another. A sharp crack made her jump and she turned over her shoulder as the sound buffeted in echoes off the mountain.

Bella's mouth fell open as her heart dove straight for her crotch.

Paul had stripped of his flannel shirt and tucked it into the back waistband of his jeans, baring a slick torso so shockingly perfect that steam rose from his skin where the milky sunlight drooled all over him. That stark tattoo was shimmying like a black flame up a flexing bicep and over a ridiculously bulky shoulder as he bent to pick up another chunk of timber. In broad day and set against the earth tones and weathered rustica, he was undeniably the most handsome man she'd ever seen.

His movements were smooth, like power made liquid flesh as he set the next log on the stump and then straightened. As he situated the axe into both swaddled hands, the stylize wolf's head burned into his pec quivered like it was straining against its leash, sending a visual rumble in ripples down a sea of taut abs. His tongue peeked out to idly touch the point of his lip as he flipped damp waves from his brow and then raised his arms over his head, his muscles working in immaculate concert.

The axe fell with deadly precision and a deafening crack, splitting the thick log into two neat halves that bounced down to the ground on either side. Paul yanked the axe from the tree trunk letting the jerking momentum arc the tool up to his shoulder.

As he looked up, he snapped her wandering eye in a steel-trap vise.

Bella was powerless to look away.

"Ready now?" he murmured, the harshness of his face melting into a leer that sparkled with private humor.

_Oh, crap._

Her lashes fluttered in the struggle to break free as a blush charged to her cheek. There was simply nothing to do but ignore the situation entirely.

It took everything she had to tear her gaze away to where Seth was loping toward the outbuildings, yipping and trying to get her attention. She'd forgotten the snowball in her hand but with a quick resetting breath she lobbed it so wretchedly that even the dog couldn't salvage it. He pounced on it instead, growling and chomping at the pile of snow.

Bella mechanically turned to scoop up another big handful – her brain was still dial-tone, but her body was screaming. She'd never been so at a loss in her life.

Straightening, she found Seth who was dodging back and forth on the far side of the courtyard with comically fierce concentration like he was playing a world-series game.

But didn't Bella's gaze slide back to that half-naked man?

He'd graciously gone back to what he was doing but was smiling to himself as he set up his next victim on the guillotine, all unhurried competence and casual strength.

Seth barked impatiently and Bella forced her eyes away as she gripped the snowball, but, like he was a million watt electro magnet, they snapped right back.

And she let it loose.

Never had her aim been more perfect.

The glob of snow hit Paul square in the face, just as he was raising the axe.

Bella gasped as her mitten snapped over her horror and she took several unconscious steps back.

The axe hovered in the air for a moment before it chopped down into the stump beside the log. Paul's hands slipped from the quivering handle and a palm lifted to squeegee the snow slowly from his face.

Behind the globby white was a bland and smoking stare.

"Sorry," she squeaked from a mortified squint.

His mouth oozed up. "Not nearly as much as you will be," he purred as he took the first step toward her.

And Bella didn't think.

With a shrieking laugh she whipped around and sprinted out into the snowy yard, wild-horse adrenaline charging through her veins.

But she'd only made several steps into the drifts before her feet were swept out from under her with such precise strength that she barely felt it - she was suddenly just plunging down to the snow like she'd been dropped. With a gasp of surprise, Bella caught herself on her outstretched hands in the drifts and instinct instantly flipped her over.

The smile died on her lips.

On his hands and knees Paul was only two feet away from her boots. And his face was stone cold intensity.

Bella's heart leaped into her throat. "I didn't-…"

She let the words die on her tongue as he shook his head slowly, dark waves swaying over razor eyes that sliced right through them as he started crawling toward her.

Eyes widening, fight or flight kicked in with a vengeance and she pushed up to her elbows, scrambling away from him.

A fist calmly caught her ankle and tugged her back with such incidental strength that her legs slipped down under his chest. Eyes locked on hers, Paul kept crawling – deliberate panther-liquid, like he was born to walk on four legs instead of two.

Her every muscle jerked taut and her palms snapped up to ward him off as he prowled over her until she was caged between his hands. His eyes sizzled – the pupils quivering in a dark iris that seemed to spark with reflections from the snow.

Slowly… agonizingly slowly, he lowered himself to his elbows over her, so his prone naked body was only inches off hers. She could feel his heat through her jacket, jeans-… his heat was _everywhere_, while those eyes smoldered in a face that was expressionless on the surface but teeming underneath.

His tongue slipped along his lower lip before he bit into it with two pearly teeth and then he freed her from that hypnotic stare. His gaze oozed over her face like a predator with a prize who was taking his sweet time deciding where to take the first bite.

And then he slowly lowered his head toward her.

Bella instinctively pressed up against his shoulders but she couldn't seem to find the strength to push him away. Her hands molded to the firm topography of collarbone and chest and fused there, his heat melting the snow on her mittens to pool in her palms.

Paul lowered his head beside her ear and she closed her eyes as damp hair fell over her face.

She could hear his breath, harsh and jerking in a way that had nothing to do with exertion. He smelled of musky sweat and male and Bella was suddenly fighting the compulsion to bury her face in his neck, just to siphon off more.

"What did I tell you about running," he breathed by her ear, so close his scruff plucked at her skin.

Bella could only swallow in response but both of them heard it. Her mind was reeling past reason and she was incinerating like every cell had burst into flames. Her snowy deathbed should have been a puddle.

The man shifted subtly over her like a shudder had rolled down his spine and he drew in a long shaky breath that pulled the heat from her scalp.

"Oh, _God_," he released the words in a smoky exhale.

And then he was pulling away.

As his hair left her face, Bella's eyes automatically opened but regretted it instantly.

Paul was inches away and when their eyes met it felt like a crack of thunder. His pupils blew open, swallowing her whole as their breaths played tug of war, yanking the air back and forth over parted lips.

His gaze ripped free from hers and swarmed over her face in a piranha frenzy until they abruptly stopped on her lips.

And that's when she saw it.

It was something infinitely more terrifying than lust or savagery: _Need_.

"Get off me."

Bella heard her own whispered words, thrust free by a flailing subconscious.

The man's eyes darted up, open and dilated past guile.

"Get off," she repeated, so quietly it was more the braille of breath.

And in a single sound blink, his pupils contracted to pinpoints. Paul pulled back as his eyes calcified and slid back and forth between hers.

It broke part of her in half - making her want to pull him back down and suck that shell off with her mouth – but the lion's share was snared by the survival-drive to flee what she'd seen under that veneer.

As he congealed up to his hands and knees again, Bella scrambled frantically back, pulling herself free. Gaze still locked with his she stumbled up to her feet, staggering in the snow.

Paul pushed to his knees and his shoulders settled back like taut bows.

Licking nervous lips, Bella took blind steps back toward the house as he rocked slowly up to his feet. Seth was crouched on his belly in the courtyard, watching the interplay with plastered ears, but something in her told her he wouldn't interfere this time.

Paul was standing stock still over the pit they'd made in the drifts, watching her with predator eyes as she backed up until her hips hit the porch.

Heart racing and her world turning on its ear, her hand searched blindly for something to hold onto. It found a post and she used it to steady herself as she dragged up onto the wooden planks. She staggered up to her feet and then, drawing in a steeling breath, tore her eyes from that stare and whipped around to the house.

She collided with a thump against the door and her wet mitten slipped on the knob. With a sob, she bit the knit and yanked her hand free and opened it, falling into the creosote and musk heat of the house.

She fell back against the door, closing it as she tried to find her balance.

It was hopeless.

Tears of pure overwhelm crested her lashes as she stomped into the house, scattering snow across the floorboards. He was screwing with her head, he was crazy, _she_ was crazy... nothing made sense.

With a grunting yell of frustration she threw her mitten across the room and then ripped the other off and sent it after.

_God, he was so incredibly_-…

Bella smeared her palms up her face and over her head, digging into her messy hair. "Annoying, confusing… freaking crazy!" she shrieked as she yanked the zipper down on her jacket.

She tore her arms out of a sleeve and then fought with the other, hopping in an agitated circle until she could shimmy free.

The door opened just as she was just throwing the jacket onto the floor.

Sucking in a gasp, she spun around to where Paul was stepping through it as he pulled on his flannel. For several seconds he stared at her with hard eyes… and his shirt hanging open over a perfect chest. The muscles were taut and quivering like a taunt.

Bella's lungs were trying to pull breath but it wasn't reaching her brain – she felt dizzy. Especially after what had just happened, being trapped inside with her inflammable attraction to that body made everything seem all that more volatile.

Strike a match, and her world would explode.

As if he could read that on her face, his mouth bled into in a lopsided smile – but it was colder, _sharper_ somehow than his usual smirk. He leaned back against the frame of the door and crossed his arms over his chest.

He watched her for a moment from under the shadow of that brow, before he licked his lips and murmured with velvet certainty:

"You want me."

Wide eyes were trapped like prey under the weight of that stare. _It was true. Oh, God, it was so true._

She'd never been so frightened in all of her life.

"I want you to leave," she rasped.

His lips parted in a predatory smile as he shook his head. "No you don't."

Bella's arms wound around her middle, trying to hold herself together.

Drawing in a long, quiet breath he pushed off the wall with mercury tension and took the first step toward her, reaching out to the door with an absent hand.

It whizzed closed with a precise click.

"What are you scared of?" he crooned, tense and quiet, like he was reeling in cashmere thread.

Bella took a step back as adrenaline started burning through some of the haze. "You."

Paul sniffed, kicking up a corner of his mouth. "No you're not."

Eyes narrowing, that perpetual pilot-light annoyance flared high.

"How can you say that?" she coughed a humorless laugh. "I don't even know you. It's been _two freaking days_!"

"Two _fucking_ days wasted, princess," he smirked. Clasping his hands behind his back, he took the next sauntering step into the house, like he was just biding his time before his strike.

"Yeah, wasted with a _freaking psychotic pervert_," she accused hotly, backing up into the table.

"What do you expect?" he tipped his head with a polyester smile. "I've had a hard-on for a week straight."

She coughed a revolted laugh – she wasn't surprised by anything that came out of that mouth anymore. "What? _Losing your touch_?" she disparaged.

"Wanna try your hand?" he purred, arching a brow as he stopped several feet in front of her.

Bella's hand fumbled for the edge of the table, blindly searching for grounding. The world was reeling violently under her. Between his constant pushing, manic mood swings and her traitor body, she couldn't find her footing for the life of her.

"You're _disgusting_!" she spat.

A raw leer spread over his lips. "And I turn you on."

"I'm not looking for a lay, I'm running for _my life_!" she shrieked.

Something dark flashed across his face like thunder. "You're running from _your past_," he bit out in a rumble. "I'm part of _now_."

"Well excuse me if I'm not thinking about _hooking up_ with a stranger on a pit-stop," she scorned.

Paul blinked jerkily, like someone had shone a light in his eyes before they narrowed under that heavy brow.

"Yep, just a _pit-stop_," he popped the P hatefully.

For a moment, he pinned her to the table with that stare before he tore it away to glance out the front window.

"The snows will melt in another five days," he turned back to her with an expression she couldn't read. "Or I can take you down tomorrow. Either way, you'll never have to see me again. So I ask you again: what are you fucking scared of?"

Swallowing thickly, her gaze darted back and forth between those intense eyes. "Why should I trust you?" she whispered.

Paul cocked his head. "Why shouldn't you?"

Bella rolled her lips for a moment – he was right, he'd given her no reason not to trust him. In fact he'd saved her life.

And she owed him. Big time.

But the men of her past also seemed perfect and she'd happily given them what they wanted. Then they'd turned on a dime and gone for the throat.

"You know what I think?"

Paul's murmur brought Bella's eyes up from the floor where they'd sunk under the brunt of her thoughts.

"I think you're too scared to ask for what you want." Hands clasped behind him, his shirt hung open over that decadent chest as he took slow steps closer. "Maybe even more scared to lose it."

Bella straightened, tipping up her face as he stopped, nearly an arm's reach away. This close, the intensity of that gaze felt like it reached in with fists and strangled her.

"But _I'm_ not," he whispered, a shadow of a sly smile on his lips. His chin was tucked in that way of his that made him look clever and mischievous and like a trickster god himself.

"And in case you're wondering, we're past _invitation_, princess," his brows jumped. "This is me, asking. _Nicely_." His lips spread in a checkered Cheshire cat grin that looked painted on over a mess of other things.

Bella's eyes wiggled free from that stare and swept over his face - looking for clues but finding none - before they fell between them.

But didn't they get snared by that perfect chest? The open shirt revealed the short dark hairs sprinkled over each defined pec – pure sleek and enticing masculinity.

A fantasy flashed through her head like lighting: _taking this one step and pushing the flannel from his shoulders while she traced every line of that musculature with the tip of her nose._

Bella snapped her eyes closed and spun around, rubbing her palms over her face to erase the image.

Blowing a breath from her cheeks she let her hands fall to splay on the table, holding herself up since her knees felt so weak.

She was so tired.

Paul had barely given her any time to get her bearings – here she was struggling to keep her head above stormy seas and, like a shark, he was circling with bumps and nips that threatened to pull her under. _Now_ he'd backed her up against the wall (or table) and was asking her for something considerably more complicated than braids or knots.

It wasn't fair.

Especially when she owed him so much.

Why was this something she even had to think about right now? People were attracted to one another all the time, she supposed (though for her, this was an all-time first). That didn't mean they had to jump into bed with one another.

Bella had never had a one-night stand in her life - unless she counted the one where she'd lost her virginity. But, after four months of dating, _she'd_ thought that was just the next step in their relationship. _He'd_ obviously planned it to be the last.

Hell, she was even technically still married.

And she didn't even _like_ sex… (right?)

All things considered, it was way more complication than she needed right now. She just wished to God her body agreed.

Bella drew in a long cooling breath through her nose.

"Paul, I haven't even thanked you for all you've done," she whispered quietly to the table. "All you're _doing_."

Pausing, she licked her lips as she squeezed her eyes closed, trying to fish the right words out of the maelstrom inside her.

"I can never repay you, but I'll do whatever you need while I'm here-…" the words stuck and she softly cleared her throat. "I-I'm good at cleaning, or cooking… or-…" she bit her lip as she tucked her chin tighter. She just didn't want to trade her body again… like she'd basically done in her marriage.

"But I just-… I just c-can't-…"

"_Stop_."

Paul's bass was quiet and emphatic and it compelled her around like it was a direct order to her nervous system that bypassed her brain.

Bella's gaze rose slowly and then her eyes snapped wide - she'd never seen such a caustic expression. His eyes were squinted in disgust and his lip curled up one side in a disparaging sneer.

Her hands clasped the table as she pressed back against it, her defenses rising.

He stared at her for a moment, the muscles jumping under the scruff of his clenched jaw and then his nostrils flared with his inhale. He blew the words out in a smoking hiss, "You owe me _nothing_."

Biting her lip in confusion, Bella's gaze darted between those burning eyes, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. "Paul, _you saved my life,_" she pressed quietly.

A shoulder jumped in what was intended to be a subtle shrug, but it jerked oddly. "You saved that _fucking wolf_."

Bella's brows furrowed in confusion.

His eyes darted off to the side and he coughed a bitter laugh that left his lips parted. He turned back to her with a derisive smirk. "Did you do it to get something?"

Bella shook her head minutely.

"In fact, you. were. ready. to. _die_," he bit each word out like a cyanide pill.

He took a step forward and Bella pressed herself harder back against the table, even as her temper unfurled in response to this volatile heat.

"You almost _did_!" his voice rose to the rafters, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. "For a _fucking animal_!" He barked an ugly laugh as he turned on his heel, shoving a rough hand through his hair as he paced away.

Bella scowled after him. "He was _suffering_!"

Paul whipped back around. "He still _is_!" he snarled, the muscles hitching up on either side of his nose.

It was so savage, Bella's body stiffened with the adrenaline torrent.

"If he's not dead already," he hissed an icy afterthought.

"You should have just left him to his fate, princess." Paul's eyes were hard hematite and set in a face so expressionless it was sinister as he took a step toward her. " 'Let him rot."

Bella's heart withered in her chest as she edged away from him down the table. For the first time since she'd met him, she was terrified.

Paul's head cocked slowly and a lock of a hair fell over his eye. She was surprised it wasn't singed off by the heat in that stare.

"Don't run," he breathed so quietly she might not have heard it if every sense wasn't heightened from fight or flight.

She froze at the end of the table, gripping the corner with one white-knuckled hand even as she reflexively glanced toward the door to gauge the distance.

Paul flipped that wave from his face as he continued that mercury prowl. He stopped only a foot away – close enough that she had to tip her head all the way back… and close enough to be wrapped in his scent and heat.

Terror deflated only to make room for rising temper. How dare he intimidate her like this? She had no idea why he was so angry, but she'd borne the brunt of male whim for long enough.

What did she have to lose anyway? He was right: she _had_ been ready to die that night. Truthfully she'd been ready since the night she'd fled the Toronto hotel.

That made everything after borrowed time.

She set her jaw as she stared stubbornly into those simmering eyes for 20 seconds? Forty? It felt like a vacuum had opened between them - a tugging tension that was going to snap any moment and suck the whole damn world down into its abyss.

Paul carefully licked his lips and the soft smack seemed to echo in the silence.

"I don't want a _duty fuck_," he ground out in a gravel bass. "I can go to town and find _a whore_ if I want to deal in trade."

Bella's nostrils flared at the insinuation. "Well, I hear the snows will be melted in five days," she hissed.

His eyes paced between hers for a moment before doing a brusque circuit of her face. "I don't want _them_," he enunciated each word, like a demand and proclamation at the same time.

Bella's brow slowly crumbled into a scowl as he stared back at her with that cocky little twist to his lips. She was sick of the innuendo and inference, the brazen overtures and evasive answers. He was screwing with her head and enjoying every minute of it and she'd just crawled out of the depths of hell.

"God, what _do_ you want, Paul?" she spit the consonants against her teeth.

A ghost of a feral smirk flitted over his lips in silent answer. It was an expression that looked mild and distracted on the surface, while deep in his eyes he was stripping the clothes from her flesh.

Bella chuffed a disparaging laugh that was nothing but a desperate bid at normalizing boundary as she took a step back.

For several heartbeats she fearlessly probed that untamed stare, raw, conflicted and wild.

"I don't think _you_ even know," she murmured under her breath.

Bella spun on her heel, smearing her hands down her face. For the first time in this thing she was starting to understand that maybe the mixed messages weren't just a game, they were a function of his inner turmoil. It was like he both wanted her and hated that he did.

She slapped her palms on her thighs as she took slow steps toward the front window.

"Look, _you_ might be used to jumping into bed with any _random girl_ who wanders into the woods," she disparaged, the words tingling like acid on her tongue as she stared out over the snow. "But I've only slept with two men in my life. This is nothing for you but a roll in the hay and _hand-break_," she spat bitterly. "But I-…"

"_Are you fucking stupid." _

The words were quiet and snide and right by her ear. Instinct whipped her body around…

And right into the chest of a giant.

Hands fisted at his side, Paul was looming over her. The muscles in his face were jumping like something was trying to break through his skin. But instead of making her cower, it made her furious - she was sick to death of him calling all the shots, just like men everywhere.

"_Are you?"_ he hissed.

Bella's scoff chafed the back of her throat as she started turning away.

A firm hand and pulled her back around.

Glaring her indignation she ripped her arm from his fist. "Don't touch me," she spat.

Paul's eyes were pacing manically between hers, his nostrils quivering. "You _know_ what I want!"

"I wouldn't **ask** **if I did!"** her voice climbed as fear and fury collided in an adrenaline bomb, leaching fire through her veins.

The muscles in his face were jumping like fleas as his lips twitched like he couldn't find the words he wanted.

"**I'm sick of this!"** she shrieked as she spun back around and started for the door, without a single thought in her head other than escape. "**I can't deal with the bullshit games! I don't want THIS! I don't want YOU! And-…**"

A fist on her arm whipped her around so fast her head spun.

Paul's eyes were seething with fire. He hashed a growl through bared teeth that sprayed spittle into his beard before it exploded in a roar, "**You're MINE**!"

And Bella hauled back and slapped him.

…

…

Time stood still.

The sting rang on her palm like the sound in her ears as she stood frozen with her hand hanging in its follow-through.

_Oh, God. What had she done? _

Stumbling several numb steps back, her heart stuttered as she stared in horror at the man whose head had snapped to the side with the blow.

Her shaking hand staggered to her mouth.

Releasing a long-suffering sigh, Paul's eyes snapped open as he slowly turned back to face her with a flare to his nostrils.

His lips hitched up in a dark smirk. "You can do better than that, princess," his croon prowled like rippling corduroy, rough and soft at the same time.

She knew she was as good as dead, but whether sanity had snapped its tether or she'd finally realized she had nothing left to lose, she decided she wouldn't go down this time without a fight. So instead of cowering from the angel of death before her...

Bella squared her jaw and stood up straight.

"Take another swing while you're at it," his teeth flashed with the words as he took another slinking step toward her. Down his chest the muscles slithered like a nightmare swarmed under his skin.

Fighting tooth and nail against the instinct to back away, Bella narrowed her eyes.

"**C'mon!"** he barked, making her jump.

"Stop Paul," she hissed quietly, standing her ground even though her insides were trembling.

As he took the last step, the muscles jumped in his nose in goading challenge. "Knee me in the _fucking balls_!" he bellowed over her, so close her eyelashes fluttered. "That would solve our little problem wouldn't it?" He lewdly grabbed his crotch as he crowded her with hulking bulk. "Right here!"

Her palms thrust against his chest. "**STOP IT**!" she shrieked, stumbling back with the force, like she'd hit a brick wall.

Paul laughed a sound of breathy grit, as he prowled after her.

"You said I was just like _him_," he purred, eyes glinting like steel as he slowly chased her backward retreat. "_Maybe I am_."

Her hips bumped against something and she glanced down to see she'd gotten trapped against the table again. This was it… there was no place else to run.

There never had been.

Cocking his head, Paul's mouth spread in a woflish leer like he had his prey right where he wanted it. He took another leisurely step. "Maybe that's how you _like it_…"

Gripping the table behind her, Bella faced him down._ "Go to fucking hell,"_ she ground out.

"_Now_ we're getting somewhere," he chuckled low as he stopped right in front of her. Head tipped down, his eyes were nearly sinister-white as he watched her from under that heavy brow.

"So it's like this, is it little one?" he crooned, deep into her eyes while his nostrils stretched with lurid leisure. "You don't want me to _ask_, you want me to _rape_ and beat the shit -…"

Sanity snapped, or maybe it was the ripcord on her rage.

Like some berserker animal, Bella hurled herself at him. She flailed wildly against his chest while senseless screams scraped her throat raw. Miles beyond reason or sanity she mindlessly beat her fists against the body in front of her, over and over, hands bruising against rock-tense muscle. The pyre built by years of pain burned white hot, incinerating everything down to the bone until all that was left was the inflamed marrow.

But slowly, seamlessly her screams transformed into the full-body sobs that fueled them. As they buckled violently through her body, Bella fell against his chest and her furious pounding became the uncoordinated bumps of unfurled fists.

Deep-drill pain bubbled up, choking her with thick, congealed despair that she tried to expel like vomit. Her hands clawed blindly into flannel and clung for dear life while her body convulsed with the hoarse sobs that she pressed into his sternum.

Underneath it, a heart beat, low and strong and steady.

Desperate, she latched onto it, riding its count of the minutes until eventually she found her way back to shore. The tears continued to flow, but slower, freer now – like blood running clean from a gangrene wound.

Swollen eyes blinked open and Bella found herself back in her body. She was collapsed against a man's chest with her hands twisted in an open flannel shirt. A big palm cupped the back of her head, holding her to his heart.

Mind blank and bloated from emotion, clumsy fingers released their grip on the flannel and her palms pressed against his chest as she pushed away.

Bella staggered back to lean against the table as her breath hitched and stuttered wretchedly. Under lashes weighed down by tears she could see the torso of a man standing two feet in front of her, splayed open palms drifting slowly to his sides.

Bella couldn't face him.

Smothering her face in her hands, she turned her back.

She felt so raw and flimsy, like a hard-shell chrysalis had shattered and her bones were still callow and soft. Her hands walked her down as she wilted slowly over the table, until she was braced on her elbows.

Leaning her throbbing forehead on the fleshy heel of her thumb, Bella watched as tears fell from her lashes to the wood. She snatched at anything around her to give her shape and form– the sound of the fire popping in the hearth, the feel of the cool wood under her stomach, the cold cling of wet clothes.

A rustle of cloth behind her made her body tense.

Bella felt his presence slowly envelope her before she saw his arms slip along the table on either side. His heat pressed her down but not a centimeter of his body touched hers.

She closed her eyes as she felt the cool deep draw of his inhale at the nape of her neck.

Paul blew the breath out in a billow of moist heat that clung to her hair. "Let me get something straight, Bella," he whispered behind her ear.

Her eyes opened tiredly to the table.

"I want you so bad, I'm losing my fucking mind," he murmured breathily. "But I'd chew off my arm before I _ever_ laid a hurting hand on you."

With that he was shoving off the table, cold dead air eddying over her where living warmth used to be.

Feeling like a wrung-out dishrag, Bella wiped her palm down her face as she pushed off the table and to swaying feet.

With the sound of the front door opening, cold air washed over, redoubling the chill of wet clothes. Chin tucked, she peeked over her shoulder at the man who was stepping out into pure white and sun.

Without a backward glance, he closed the door quietly.

Bella turned around and stared numbly after him.

Abruptly her knees gave out and she slithered limply down to the floor. She felt like ground zero in a nuclear holocaust – nothing but a charred out shell of cinders and ash.

Bending knees against wet denim, she crossed her arms over them and flopped her head down onto her forearm, trying just to draw breath through the barrenness.

But seconds later, the door flew open, bowling cold air across the floor.

Bella's face snapped up in surprise to find Paul's hulking body, filling the entire doorway. For several heartbeats he watched her silently from the shadows of that heavy brow until Bella's gaze drifted down between them with shame.

"Your _favorite_ dog's worried," his low murmur brought her eyes back up.

Paul's mouth oozed up in that familiar smirk. It was somehow the most comforting thing she'd ever seen in her life.

" 'You gonna deny him too?"

Bella smiled sadly and shook her head.

He held her gaze for a moment longer before he stepped back and a snowy Seth scampered inside with yips and whines.

While she tried to tame the dog's wiggling frenzy she looked back up to find Paul still watching.

Her voice cracked hoarsely, "Paul…"

But his eyes slipped away, pulling his head with it. "I'll be outside."

And he shut the door.

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_Review if you like._


	6. Lost Causes

Sorry for the wait. Thanks for the awesome notes - they give me chi to keep going.

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Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy.

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**Chapter 6 – Lost Causes**

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Bella stared numbly at the flames devouring the last log in twisting feeding frenzy. The day's meager hours of light were spent – just like the firewood – and dusk was closing in fast around the cabin. Outside, the explosive claps of a falling axe had quieted a long time ago and now there was nothing to count the hours but the beat of her heart.

And slow even breaths of the dog in her lap.

She'd had to move to the couch because Seth had been adamant about climbing up with her in "her" easy chair and there simply wasn't room. But feeling like it was foreign territory, she'd curled up in the far corner of the huge couch - closest to the chair - and the dog had promptly jumped up and stretched out luxuriantly with his big head in her lap. The sofa was so big, there was still plenty of room if Paul wanted to join them.

Bella didn't want to think about it, or more accurately, think about facing him.

She absently threaded her fingers through Seth's thick fur as she let the hypnotic fire consume the noxious cloud of emptiness inside. She felt like she'd puked up everything until nothing was left by a raw and tender shell.

With a sniffle she pulled the thick rolled-up sleeve of one of Paul's shirts over the heel of her hand and wiped her nose. She'd stripped of her own cold wet clothes and dug out the long underwear bottoms and flannel that he'd loaned her yesterday from the pile of laundry to wear while hers dried by the fire. She'd only worn them that one day so they weren't that dirty. At least she was one of the few, the proud, the ones without B.O.

Sniffing a limp laugh at herself, she propped her elbow against the armrest and rested her cheek against her fist.

She felt like a newborn foal – weak and damp and knobby – trying to stagger her way through a world that was frighteningly new. Letting it all loose in such a physical way had somehow snapped moorings she'd mistaken for the natural force of gravity all these years and she couldn't find her bearings. She'd finally rebelled against a past that she'd let define her, but the problem was, she'd forgotten who she was for so long she felt like a complete and utter stranger in her own body.

And, in the end, she decided that was just fine. She hadn't liked who she'd become and she was leaving that person, along with the monster she'd married, behind.

But right now, it just felt uncomfortable.

Picking up the brush that was sitting on her thigh, she pulled her hair over her shoulder. "You're not Isabella Cullen anymore," she whispered into the fire, imagining that effigy burning at the stake. "You're _Bella Swan_."

Behind her the front door opened.

Bella's hand frozen in her hair as the dog picked his head up and turned over the back of the couch. Instinctively she glanced at the reflection of the room in the darkening kitchen windows at the burly man crossing the threshold with an armful of wood.

Seth lapped at his muzzle and then returned his head to her lap, snuffling at her hair spilling over his perch.

With a pat and tight smile at her companion, she pulled the mass of auburn waves over the other shoulder and started dividing it in thirds.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Paul round the couch on the kitchen side and stride toward the fire. Squatting in front of the hearth, he stacked the wood on the side and then stood and sauntered back around the couch without so much as a glance. As soon as he was out of her periphery, she glanced back at the reflection in the kitchen window to watch him disappear outside again while she continued to weave her hair into a loose thick plait, just to occupy her nervous fingers.

In the time it took to clumsily finish the long braid, Paul made three more trips, each with massive armfuls of firewood - stacking two in the kitchen by the stove and bringing the last one to the hearth. Bella watched him squat down to stack it in front of her without a word or wandering eye. His broad shoulders strained against the flannel, untucked and dark with sweat, as he shoved several more logs into the flame and then watched while they caught fire.

It felt even _more_ awkward than their norm… or maybe she was just so raw, his fickle moods stung.

She tied off her braid and twisted the end around her finger as she scraped together courage that might as well be a pound of raw flesh.

Her whisper exploded in a gush, "_I'msorryPaul._"

For several seconds the man just stared into the fire and Bella's lips were just parting to repeat herself, when his low murmur billowed over the flames like smoke, "What for?"

Her gaze fell to the burnished curl around her finger. "For beating the crap out of you like some freaking wild woman," she chuckled woodenly.

"I like _fucking_ wild," he muttered under his breath as he picked up a poker and nudged a log.

"Did I hurt you?" Bella wrinkled her nose and wound the hair tighter.

He coughed macho denial at the flames. "Barely felt it."

Bella licked her lips and looked up at the muscles jumping in his jaw – wondering what it meant. "Well, I'm still sorry," she told him quietly. "I've never hit anyone before."

"Well that's stating the obvious," he coughed, turning over his shoulder with a disparaging smirk. "I gotta teach you how to throw a punch, princess. That was fucking pitiful."

It was just his usual bait and barb, but feeling as thin-skinned as she was, it felt more like a hot poker. Even though Paul had goaded her into it, in her mind it had been her _husband _who'd finally been the recipient of her ire.

And deep down, she'd been proud that she'd finally stood up for herself.

She wasn't sure how long she'd gotten stuck - staring at him like a slack-jawed fool - but by the time she'd scraped enough sanity together to stick, the smirk had long evaporated from his face.

"I'm just-… I'm sorry," she whispered, dropping her gaze to her lap.

Paul bolted up abruptly and her eyes snapped back find him facing the hearth. He shoved a wrapped hand through his hair as he stared at the fire and then, without a word, he spun on his heel and stalked to the kitchen with a jerk in his stride.

Bella released a shaking exhale and threaded her fingers through Seth's fur. The dog's tail thumped lazily against the couch, completely at ease.

At least someone was.

She knew Paul hadn't meant it the way she took it. He was just being himself: a beast of a man who ate cocksure crass and shudder-worthy tough _for breakfast_ (out of a dog's bowl).

But no matter what he _said_, those hands – those huge, dirty, work-calloused hands – were kind. She knew because they'd cupped the back of her head and held her to his chest while she'd blubbered like a baby all over him.

A hollow slosh snapped her head up to find Paul tipping a bottle of liquid amber to his lips as he trailed back from the kitchen. His eyes stayed on the fire as he lowered it and then jerked a wrapped fist over his mouth.

Eyes on the hearth, he stopped by the couch, making Seth warily pick his head up from her lap and Bella sit up a little straighter. But he ignored them both as he slowly lowered himself down into that space she'd just been thinking about at the far end.

Propping his forearms on his knees, he took another loud sloshing drink while he stared into the fireplace.

Bella blinked as her gaze ran over that strong profile, the tense shoulders, the way one socked foot bounced his knee up in in a fidget. This big, bad, wolf of a man looked _nervous_. It was such a strange thing.

He tipped the drink up against his lips, this time sucking bubbles into the amber without lifting his chin. Lowering it, he swished the drink in his mouth and then swallowed with a gulp as he watched his hand idly swing the bottle between forefinger and thumb between his knee.

"I dunno how to make it better," he mumbled to the floor.

Bella's heart stuttered in her chest – was he actually trying to talk to her?

"What do you mean?" she asked quietly, trying not to break the spell.

Head bowed, he shifted on the couch uncomfortably. "I mean, I can't do this shit," he coughed disgust and then shook his head as he shifted on the couch.

Bella licked uncertain lips.

"I hate watching girls cry," he spat suddenly and then tipped a shoddy sip back and smacked his lips.

Her brow furrowed. "Paul-…"

"I mean, I can teach you how to do some fucking _damage_," his mouth hitched ferally as his eyes slipped up to the fire. "Or piss you off 'til you snap or fuck you senseless…but I don't do _nice," _he hissed the word like a curse_. _ "Or _talk_. Or any of this _bullshit_."

In two seconds flat Bella went from wanting to hug him to wanting to throw the brush in his face. "In other words, you don't do _human_?" she disparaged.

His eyes cut over to her.

She was scowling now as she tried to hold the reins of her runaway temper. It seemed _everything_ was greased by her little meltdown hours earlier.

"So you only live in _'bullshit stories'_?" she spat jerking her fingers in a sarcastic air-quote. "Is that it, Paul? Otherwise you just run from reality or give it a beat-down?"

"Pretty much," a slow (and indescribably infuriating) smile spread over his face and he tipped the drink leisurely up and took a drag. Holding her gaze he lowered it and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Reality's nothing but piss-poor perception, princess."

"Wow, alliteration and everything," she bit out snidely.

His smile turned saccharine. "I like to read."

Bella just shook her head in open-mouthed dismay.

Lifting a hand he tucked his pinky under his thumb theatrically. "I like to eat," he counted off his dismal list again on his fingers. "Fight and _fuck_," he dragged the F over his lip by his teeth.

Bella's eyes nearly rolled out of her head. "Well God, you've got some mad skills in the first two so why the _hell_ am I holding out?" she drawled.

Paul arched a sly brow. "Beats me."

Bella slapped a palm over her eyes and dragged it down her face.

" 'Don't hold out on the goddamn dog though, do you-…?" He cut of the words off with a caustic laugh. "Guess he gets it right."

Bella's eyes popped back open as he blindly sloshed the bottle in their general direction and then threw back another sip. Her gaze plummeted to where Seth was watching him with flattened ears and suddenly it clicked.

He was _jealous_. Paul was jealous of _the dog_!

"He's got better manners," the words warbled with a suppressed laugh as she smoothed a palm over the animal's head. Seth turned back to her with submissive laps to his muzzle.

"Not the way I see it," Paul muttered and she heard the sloop of the bottle. "I'd never let him jump and drool all over _my-_ …couch."

Bella blinked at the dog, peering up at her with those big brown eyes. Paul had _said_ couch, but she had a feeling he was really talking about her. (Or maybe she was being clueless about canine discipline– he certainly had a better track record.)

Either way… it _was_ his couch.

Tipping her chin toward the floor, she pushed Seth gently and the _agreeable_ wild thing took the hint. Leaning up with a slobbery kiss, he then thumped down to the floor. Bella absently watched him walk around twice in his perfunctory circle before he curled up in his spot in the middle of the bear's pelt.

Whether she'd read Paul's inference correctly or it was still a lingering annoyance that chafed, earlier he'd been clear as day about his claim. Bella's gaze fell to the brush on the armrest and she stroked a finger over the bristles, now threaded with her auburn curls and his dark waves.

"I don't _belong_ to you, you know," she whispered to the brush. "I don't belong to anyone."

Bella heard the soft splash of liquor. "I know."

With a furrow to her brow, she looked over at the man staring into the fire. "Why did you say it?"

That smirk bloomed in the firelight. "To piss you off."

"You are so _incredibly_ good at that," Bella sniffed a laugh as she pulled her knees up onto the couch and turned toward him.

"It's a gift," he tipped the bottle in salute and took toasting sip.

"Can I have some of that?" pushing up to her elbow she leaned forward toward him and held out her hand. She wasn't much a drinker, but she was suddenly feeling like maybe he had the right idea.

Paul glanced at her with a climbing smile and then his long arm ferried the bottle across the distance. As he handed off the drink, their fingers brushed and it felt like lightning crackled up her arm.

Unnerved, she yanked the bottle toward her as her gaze fell under the pretense of a curious sniff.

"Whiskey," Paul murmured as he sat back on the couch, propping his arm along the back as he watched her with a goading smile.

She'd figured it was something macho like that. Squaring her jaw at that challenging bite of his lower lip, she brought the bottle to her mouth.

It was like taking a sip from a flame thrower.

Paul's chuckles rippled under her round of wheezing coughs and Bella tried to glare at him from watering eyes. Determined not to go down without her dignity, she held his gaze as she took another kamikaze mouthful to chase the damage. It went down a singed throat much easier.

Fighting her grimace, she handed it back to his smug smile. The warmth that immediately hit her was _almost_ as potent as the incidental brush of his skin.

Still trying to catch her breath from the liquor, her eyes snagged on that culprit hand, draped over the back of the couch and now casually dangling the bottle between thick fingers.

Still wrapped in the strip of cloth, now frayed and filthy from his work, dirt lined the beds of worn nails and clung to thick roughened knuckles. These were nothing like her husband's pasty manicured squishy-slug hands.

In fact, Bella thought they were sexy.

Had she ever thought hands were _sexy_ before? Or, for that matter, the men they were attached to?

Realizing the alcohol must be a little more potent than she'd thought, her eyes darted up to see if she'd been caught.

By all appearances, Paul was lounging back, watching the flames pop and curl in the hearth. But while one leg was stretched out toward the fire, the other was still bouncing on the balls of his foot - he still looked agitated, distracted.

Maybe she was just a woman reading wistful thinking into the male psyche, but that first comment he'd made about not knowing how to make things better seemed _sincere_. That admission coupled with the body language and the silly dog jealousy all chased by innuendo and swagger pointed to a man who felt vulnerable in new territory and was struggling to keep up old defenses.

With eerily perfect timing, Paul turned toward the bottle hanging from the hand over the couch and took another sip, flicking a covert glance at her from under his lashes before quickly returning to his wooden lounge.

God, he was _impossible_.

In fact, _so_ impossible she decided she needed a little more buzz to deal with it. Picking up her cheek from the couch, she leaned forward and brazenly plucked the bottle from his hand, pointedly avoiding that skin. His fingers released it and stayed absently splayed open as he stubbornly watched the fire.

Taking a generous mouthful of liquor, she swished it around her grimace and then swallowed it. She wasn't sure if she should just call it a night or keep swinging. Pensively watching firelight reflect off the glass, she ran her tongue over teeth as she and then smacked her lips and licked off the sting.

"Before we ignore each other for the rest of the night, I need to say one more thing," she heaved a sigh at the whiskey. "You're _nothing_ like him. I'm-... I'm sorry I said that."

Paul's hand curled into a slow loose fist on the back of the couch. "Like you said, you don't know me."

Bella looked up with a frown. "I know what you're _not_."

He exhaled a breath that bowed his head over his chest and then turned slowly, peering at her between stringy dark waves. "If you knew the monster that lives under this skin," he whispered. "You'd run down this mountain screaming."

A chill tiptoed down her spine. "Is that why you live up here all alone?"

He sniffed, his smile flashing white and vicious in the shadows. "Don't do that psychoanalysis bullshit on me, princess."

Bella pressed her lips together for a moment and then her gaze dropped to the bottle in her hand. It was looking like she was turning in for the night. With a sigh she tipped it up for another long draught.

She was just lowering it when it was snatched out of her hand. Bella looked up with a scowl-turned-grimace from the liquor.

Paul had bolted from the couch. "You've had enough," he sniffed as he paced toward the fire, gulping down more with discriminatory gall.

The dog hustled up to his feet and out of the way.

"I was _hoping_ it would make you less annoying," she snapped after him.

"It won't."

Seth came over for a nuzzle and she scratched behind his ears while she fumed.

"And I don't want you blaming the bottle in the morning," Paul continued and she looked up to see him squatting by the fire.

"When you throw yourself at me…" he paused and glanced over his shoulder with a smirk. _"And I just do what comes natural."_

Bella snapped her eyes closed on her glare and tried to ignore the way her insides buckled. That was the liquor talking… it was _all_ the liquor.

She opened them again to find that infuriating smirk still in place… while he tipped back a taunting guzzle of liquor.

Bella snorted, "Oh, but it's okay for _you_ to drink the whole freaking thing."

"I'm three times bigger than you," he chuckled as he turned back to the fire.

"And a _monster_," she added peevishly... but regretted it immediately.

Paul snapped back around it was like a lead curtain had plunged over his face. "Yes," he hissed.

He held her gaze for another burning moment before he turned back to the fire and took another curt drink.

Bella bit down on a grimace. She'd hurt him by mistake, just like he'd done to her – they really were a pair. And the worst part was, based on what she'd seen of him, she was pretty sure that Paul didn't know the _first_ thing about monsters.

But Bella did.

Drawing in a slow breath, she ruffled the dog's fur and then wrapped her arms around herself. Seeming to realize he was being dismissed, the dog chuffed and then turned to the man now putting another log into the fire. With another glance at Bella, he wove around the easy chair and trotted to the bed, curling up in the little rug beside it.

She didn't blame him, she wasn't looking forward to this either.

Bella turned back to the man now standing before the hearth, his broad shoulders and hulking frame backlit by a fire raging with gluttony.

"Since you like stories, let me tell you one about monsters, Paul," she murmured, feeling the first trickle of adrenaline mixing with the alcohol's warmth.

He turned his face just enough to show he'd heard, the curve of his cheek silhouetted behind hair tucked in messy waves behind his ear.

Bella's eyes dropped to her lap, finding her arms wound around her middle, already anticipating how talking about this was going to blow her apart at the seams.

But after today she needed to. Maybe he did too.

Pointedly unwinding her arms, she reached out to the brush that Seth had knocked off the armrest into the space between her thigh and the couch.

"_Monsters_ come dressed in designer labels, Italian leather and romance," she told him in a feigned conversational cadence as she turned the brush over in her hands. "They have degrees, come from 'good families' and are the perfect gentleman until they get a ring on a girl's finger."

She blinked as memories flashed behind her eyes like a horror film, but kept her composure. "Then on her wedding night," she bit her lip for a moment strumming harshly over the bristles and taking comfort in the roughness against her skin.

"A _monster_ makes the girl strip and tells her all the many things that are wrong with her body," she bit out crisply, feeling like her jaw was popping with each word. "And _then _he ties her to the bed and screws her with his clothes on," she clenched her eyes closed for a moment and then sniffed a bitter laugh. "Oh, like the perfect gentleman, he apologizes for the bruises the next day. But everyone knows it's really her fault because she was the one who made him lose control."

Bella's eyes swept out to her audience to see what he was thinking – his back to her still, Paul's head was bowed to the hearth, his hand gripping the mantle.

He was listening.

Bella closed her eyes as she pulled the brush to her chest along with protective knees. And soldiered on.

"_Monsters_, Paul, tell you what to wear, what to eat, who to see and then beat the shit out of you if you do it wrong," she continued her conversational tone and then faked a laugh. "Or every once in a while just because you're so _hopelessly imperfect_," she sighed melodramatically.

Bella rolled her lips as she watched images flash like a stop-motion picture show behind her eyes. She couldn't believe she'd stayed that long. But at nineteen, after weddings and romance and all the things a girl is taught to believe in, she'd _believed_ him when he said she was lucky he still wanted her in the morning. Later it became tapped phones, GPS tracking, body guards like Emmett – the only one who'd guarded _her_ body and stood up to _his_ wrath. He'd died in a "car accident" on his way home from getting fired.

She knew there were others like him in her husband's sick world, she just hoped to God he left Jacob and her father alone…

Sucking in a resetting breath, Bella opened them to find Paul still standing in the same position, his head bowed down so his hair fell over his profile.

But he was shaking.

Minute tremors slithered down a body locked and taut, making the liquor dance and jump in the bottle held at his side.

Bella licked her lips and then whispered across the distance, "So is that the kind of monster you are, Paul?"

Shattering glass came seconds before the blue flare in the fireplace. Bella jumped, jettisoning the brush to the floor with a thunk and Seth whined.

Slowly, Paul turned over his shoulder with eyes that reflected the fickering flames.

"I'm the kind of monster who'll kill him," he hissed as his body followed after, the muscles jumping under the cling of damp flannel.

Bella couldn't breathe under that stare. Turned all the way around now, his eyes were black and smoking with rage.

But no matter what he said or how mad he got, she knew now what this man was _not: _he'd never hurt her.

Bella squared her jaw and silently faced him down.

But suddenly the dog was slinking around the chair between them, tail tucked but valiantly trying to protect her. Paul tore those eyes from hers and skewered the dog with a feral grimace and Seth fell to his belly with a thump.

"STOP IT!" Bella snapped, throwing herself from the couch and falling to her knees at the dog's side. "You're scaring him!"

As she stroked a hand over his trembling flanks, she added quietly, "And me too."

Bella gave him several minutes to get him a hold of himself. When that juicy breath hashed through his teeth gradually began to slow, her eyes ventured up.

Jaw muscles jumping rhythmically, Paul was staring at her with shadowed eyes but at least that shaking had stopped. Blowing a harsh breath from his cheeks, he turned away as he shoved his hand through his hair.

Bella gasped at the streak it left across his forehead. "You're bleeding," she cried. Somehow the bottle had shattered _before_ he'd thrown it?

Paul gifted his hand with a cursive glance. " 'Just a scratch," he mumbled.

But she could see now that blood was soaking into the wrapping and dripping to the hearth.

Bella pushed up off the floor.

More than grateful for the break anyway, she stumbled through the dim house toward the cupboard where she'd shoved his supplies. Tucking the box under her arm she crossed the room to the kitchen and pulled the pan from the sink that they'd used earlier for Seth. Deciding it wasn't clean enough, she dumped it and then ran some cold water while she glanced over her shoulder.

Paul was just collapsing heavily on the couch, absently cradling his hand while he stared blindly ahead.

Bella's heart was going a million miles per hour and she wasn't sure if it was concern or just residual fear from witnessing the spring of that hair-trigger rage. She turned back to watch the trickling stream of water filling the pan and tried to settle herself.

Yanking off the faucet, she rubbed some soap into the water, grabbed a rag and the box and headed back to the hearth.

The two wild things had forgiven each other apparently, because Seth was now curled at the man's feet. The dog looked up with a casual thump of his tail as she neared. The man ignored her completely.

Drawing in a steeling breath, she strode to "her" end of the couch and set the water and box down on the floor and then sat, pulling her knee up between them so she was facing him.

"Let me see," she demanded.

Paul's eyes slipped over to her and his mouth hitched in a bemused smile. " 'Just a _scratch_, princess."

At least he was back to his baseline ass.

Bella held out a demanding palm.

With a roll of his eyes he thrust out a loose blood-soaked fist. Bella leaned over to the floor and picked up the pot, placing it between them.

And then suddenly realized she was going to have to _touch_ that hand. _Crap_.

Biting her lip, her eyes darted up to that little knowing smile and with a rebellious scoff promptly wrapped her hand around his wrist.

That strange zing siphoned instantly up her arm, a million times more potent than hard liquor and the pads of her fingers sizzled against his skin as they circled the girth of hefty bones. God, he was so huge they didn't come close to touching.

Bella tried her hardest to ignore it all and focus on her task as she gently pulled his hand over the pot, but it was nearly impossible to ignore that dark stare.

Dunking the rag into the water, she dabbed gingerly at his fingers. Her other hand was simply powerless to release that wrist …

Until he twisted free.

She looked up, worried she'd hurt him – or that he knew how rabidly her fingertips soaked up the touch - but Paul was full-on smirking at her as he plunged his hand into the pot.

He swished it around, brisk and impatient. " 'Other way was gonna take all night," he muttered.

Shoulders falling with an annoyed sigh, she watched as the water quickly turned red.

He pulled it out, palm up and splayed open. "See?" he sniffed.

Bella frowned as her fingers automatically slipped under the range of his knuckles to lift it closer. She could see the two long gashes across his palm under the frayed wrapping, but they looked so shallow.

"That's a heck of a lot of blood," she muttered as she started to tug the bandage free - there _had_ to be something more under it.

"So I figure Iowe you a story now," Paul shifted on the couch in front of her and she looked up to find him propping the other arm over the back. "You still wanna hear that ending?"

Bella promptly forgot about his hand. "The one with the wolf-men?" she checked.

"Yeah," he chuckled.

She nodded, unconsciously wetting her lips.

"Well the last of those stories start with a set of twins," he paused and his eyes cut down between them. " 'You gonna just fondle my hand, princess? Or were you gonna clean it too?"

Gaze tumbling down she found her thumb absently strumming over the cowlicked pads of his fingers.

Embarrassment charging to her cheeks, with a soft rip, she started unwinding the binding.

"Anyway, these twins were the first ones born of the last generation. But only _one_ boy could inherit the power," he heaved a sigh like he was bored.

Bella glanced up to find his head tipped back to the ceiling. Her eyes returned to her work – she dropped the ruined cloth in the water and pulled his hand closer. Two jagged slices lightninged across his lifeline, but the bleeding was already slowing to a stop. She picked up the rag and delicately patted over his hand, making sure she hadn't missed something.

"So the younger one was a real sick muthafucker."

Bella looked up again as she leaned over to dig through the box.

Eyes staring at the ceiling, Paul's lips were curled with undisguised hate. "And he was _so fucking jealous_ of his older twin, that he drowned 'em in the lake when they were kids, _by accident."_

The words lanced straight through her heart and suddenly Bella knew he was using this story as a way to tell part of his own. Was _he_ this boy? Was _this_ who this man was?

"But when he hit manhood, the fucker still didn't get shit," he barked a caustic laugh.

Straightening slowly, her hand froze in the middle of unscrewing the metal lid from the jar of salve.

Paul's gaze climbed down from the ceiling. Whatever he saw on her face made him tilt his chin down with a predatory smile.

"It's just a _story_, princess," his lips twisted with sarcasm. "And this hand's gonna be all healed up if you keep staring."

Bella's gaze immediately fell to the jar. Pulling her lip into her mouth, she scraped it with her teeth and then unscrewed the salve. He'd generously given her privacy to tell her own tale and she owed him the same.

She dipped two fingers into the translucent gel, as she eyed that big hand held still and steady over the pot. Had this hand killed his own brother?

How did she feel about that?

In her periphery she saw Paul's face flop down to his chest as he continued his story in a taut, quiet voice. "The sick fuck grew up mean and nasty and _pissed at the gods_," he twisted the words sarcastically. "But some stupid girl took him anyway."

He coughed a laugh that sounded more like a wheeze and she glanced up from under her lashes. Head tipped toward the arm, so cavalierly propped on the other side of the couch, stringy waves obscured his face. But he was actually talking to her now.

And Bella was listening.

Setting down the jar, she slipped her palm under his knuckles, feeling the rough peaks and valleys of hands gouged by sin, hard work and loneliness.

Finally she was starting to understand.

Bella tenderly smeared the salve over the cuts in his palm and she heard his inhale, long and slow and struggling to be silent. She hoped he drew comfort from her touch too.

"He beat a son out of her when she was sixteen," the man continued quietly.

Bella's eyes closed, letting the pain lance through her as she dragged her fingertips soothingly through liniment coating his palm.

"But the kid was a sick fuck too."

Her eyes blinked open to his hand – deeply lined, calloused and resting supine and vulnerable in her palm. She could barely see the lacerations under the thick layer of salve. Eyes lowered she cradled his hand in hers as she leaned over for a bandage but they were all tangled. She tried to shake one free with harsh jerks...

But with a shift on the couch, suddenly his other hand was reaching out to hold the mass for her.

"They say when he was 14 he finally went nuts," he whispered, right by her ear.

Bella froze, her eyes darting up to the dark waves hanging so close she could feel them brush against her hair. Barely daring to breathe, she blindly tugged the bandage free as he held the knotted mess.

" 'Came home to find his mother naked and beaten senseless in a pool of her own blood," he continued to breathe cobweb words into her ear as he lifted the pot from the couch and set it on the floor. "He killed that bastard with his bare fucking hands."

In contrast to the chill racing up her spine, his heated presence rolled back like a summer storm as he sat up.

"And then he changed into a wolf and chewed up the pieces," he chuckled low. "He was the last of 'em the gods cursed."

Bella drew in a slow breath into starving lungs as she tried to process the enormity of what he was telling her. Whether he was embellishing it in distancing legends because it made it easier to talk about or that's how a young boy processed something so horrible, it didn't matter. This story was too close to the tale told by Jasper and the clues Paul himself had dropped all along not be the one from his past.

Swallowing thickly, her head ventured up.

Paul's other arm was propped on the couch again, but his posture looked anything but nonchalant... it was more like he was in the starting blocks of a sprint.

Bella stared into those hematite eyes, stunned heartbroken and beyond words.

Paul's mouth congealed into a cold smile. " 'Thought you liked stories."

She licked dry lips as her gaze fell to her lap. Paul had pulled his hand back now and it was resting on his thigh like some dead thing on its back.

"It doesn't need that shit, princess," he sniffed. Under her gaze, his hand curled up and subtly angled away… like he thought she didn't want to touch him.

Bella pointedly met his eyes as she reached out and grabbed his wrist, tugging it deliberately across the distance to her own knee. His beard couldn't hide the fact that smirk stuttered subtly in the corners.

She gave him his privacy and dropped her gaze again and then gently started winding the bandage around the wound. Even if it wasn't bleeding anymore, at least it would keep the salve in place.

Plus, it was the symbolism of the thing.

Paul was making no bones about staring at her, but she pointedly ignored him as she spent just as much care swaddling his hand as she was using to unravel myth from his history. Or was he actually so psychologically broken that a boy's fantasy had become a man's psychotic reality?

He seemed too clever and cunning for that – but then again Bella was fairly smart and she'd stayed in a monster's psychological cage for the better part of a decade before she'd come to her senses.

She cleared her throat quietly, hoping she wasn't overstepping her bounds. "Did his mother die?" she whispered to his hand as she gently turned it over so she could tie the knot on his knuckle.

His fingers seemed to melt against her leg of their own accord but his words were caustic, "No, she found out what he'd done and cut her losses."

"She _left_?!" Bella's face snapped up in shock.

There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he doused it with snark. " 'Bastard was a fucking lost cause, princess," he drawled. "She finally got smart."

Bella closed her eyes, bowing her head with a disgusted shake.

That was where she herself had drawn the line, even in her darkest days. She'd never wanted to bring a child into her hell and she certainly couldn't imagine leaving one there. Bella thanked all that was holy that she'd had the wherewithal to sneak birth control when her husband had deemed it was the _proper time_.

Sucking her lip with a squeak, she looked down at their hands resting on her leg. Her fingers were resting over the bandage on his knuckles … his were tucked into the crook of her knee. But she didn't think he was _pushing_, it was more like he was subconsciously holding on.

He seemed to notice at the same time too - those fingertips quickly unfurled and he was pulling away.

Bella stopped him with a firm palm. "I've got to finish," she told him crisply.

Paul allowed her to tug it back but kept his hand splayed pointedly flat... but she saw the subtle tremor to those strong fingers.

It broke her heart.

This was hard for him, no matter how desperately he was pretending that it wasn't. For her, for himself - she wasn't sure which was more important.

"So what happened to this last wolf?" she asked quietly as she picked up the loose end of the bandage.

Paul shifted subtly on the couch. "No one knows," he sniffed. " 'Tribe got him off, the old ones kept him close, until one day he day he just disappeared."

Bella bit her lip and then licked thoughtfully over the imprint as she tied the knot in slow motion, somehow knowing he was going to flee as soon as it was done.

"Why did he leave?" she whispered.

She was right: as soon as the knot was finished he was tugging his hand free. " 'Got sick of watching people die, I guess."

Bella stared at the empty space on her knee for a moment as she processed his cryptic answer. Maybe it was a metaphor. If the wolf legend was the fable about losing machismo to women - like she thought - then it would make sense that watching people around him fall in love and have families would be like death to a man who never had it.

With a sigh, she leaned down and snatched the damp rag from the floor.

It all made her sad: a lost boy grown into a lonely man, hiding from the monster that fate had made him into.

She looked up and caught just the subtle tail of something complex before it snapped into that habitual smirk. Stretched out in a lounge with that tilt to his head and both arms propped over the back of the couch, he was back to the cocksure epitome of devil-may-care.

But now she knew what lived under this skin. And he _wasn't_ a monster… not really.

She studied him for a moment while she absently wiped the mess from her hands. "You've got blood on your forehead," she announced.

She could tell by that lightning circuit of her face that she'd caught him off guard – and turning the tables _had_ been the idea.

Holding her gaze with a combination of curiosity and challenge, his hand slipped from the couch and dryly flopped out in petition.

Instead of handing over the rag, Bella cleared her throat and scooted a little closer on the couch.

And that smirk slipped off his lips as he canted his head curiously and his hand drifted back to its perch.

Bella took it as permission and went up on that one bended knee as his eyes ricocheted back and forth between hers.

She just wanted to take care of him a little. To somehow – if she could – let him know she didn't think he was that lost cause he thought he was.

But the intensity of the gaze was unnerving, especially approaching him as she was, so her eyes slipped up to his forehead as she climbed up onto both knees and shuffled closer. Much to her chagrin, her hand was shaking as it lifted to the smudge, but just slipping into the grotto of his heat steadied her heart.

The darkened room contracted down to nothing but the man before her, bathed in firelight and holding immaculately still. This close, she could see all the little details that were lost even in daylight to the crush of his sheer presence: the way his damp hair fell into discreet waves from his part, some highlighted redish from the sun. The fine lines in his forehead and the cowlicked rebellion in his left brow.

His dark eyes were watching her out of their corners with a million private thoughts making their pensive crescents tremble. Biting her lip and the bullet, Bella stopped her study and focused on the blood across his brow.

Closing the distance, she gently swept it away.

But didn't that touch still her hand? She wiped the rag once, twice, and then again, each time slower than the last.

And in her periphery, she watched his eyes melt closed.

It made her heart stutter in her chest.

Taking her sweet time for both of them, she wiped the dried blood from his hair, watching his face relax with each stroke. She smiled softly even as tears filled her eyes - it reminded her of Seth and how the simplest of touch was, for him, pure unadulterated ecstasy.

With that thought, she heedlessly dropped the rag over the back of the couch and Bella skimmed her fingertips over his brow giving him more. She dragged them slowly down his temple, turning the touch into a tender caress of her palm as she sat down on her heels.

In this moment of privacy from all the intensity, her gaze washed over his face, cataloging every feature, memorizing its strong form, as her hand cupped his bearded jaw and rested there. Bella had never felt facial hair before but his was long enough now to be a soft warm prickle against her palm. Just like his face - that hard contrived mask along with ten years had simply melted away, if only for an unheeded moment.

Her eyes fell to his lips where that habitual wry twist had unfurled into a broad well-formed mouth. A sensuous cupid's bow peaked into the nestle of his thickening mustache and her thumb rose to strum over it. Full russet silk clung to her skin, effortlessly transforming the touch to a savoring caress back and forth across his mouth.

His eyes – so softly closed – squeezed tighter then, flipping up the lashes as he drew in a slow sniff that pulled cool air over her knuckle.

Her hand instinctively left his face to settle on his chest and those eyes slowly opened.

Bella's gaze slipped up to meet them.

All pretense had been swallowed by yawning midnight, stretching so wide they didn't even look human. They were still and black-hole deep, and she physically felt them siphoning her soul across the distance. It was such a strange sensation – a tingling that started in her chest and spread. It raised chills from her skin like every cell was reaching for him.

But then he blinked, slow and somber like a cat, and the spell was broken.

His gaze trickled down her face, its descent slowly swaying his head to the side and then, with a soft rustle of cloth, his hand rose from the couch and drifted across the distance to light against her jaw.

His thumb brushed once through overflow emotion, carving a river down her cheek, and then those eyes returned to hers.

"You okay?" His voice was soft and deep and as tender as the thumb that was caressing across her cheek.

Pressing her lips together to cage the swell, Bella nodded against his hand

With a subtle nod of his own, his hand was pulling away.

Sobs bucking in her chest, she caught him mid-flight and he froze. Closing her eyes, she pulled herself along it, desperate hand over fist up bulky muscle as thick as her thigh.

She climbed that mountainous shoulder and wound her arms around his neck and squeezed with all of her might. Rooting into his hair, she buried her nose under his jaw as she clenched her eyes on the torrent of tears.

"You're _not_," she wept in a whisper against his skin. "You're not a lost cause, Paul. You're not."

Warm arms snaked around her as he tucked her against his shoulder with a tip of his head. He swallowed her whole, all warm steel and musky cedar, and Bella just climbed in deeper.

His embrace was alive, slithering up and down, over and around her body as she bled quiet grief over his chest. For lost boys, for hurting hands, for cruel fates, and girls in gilded cages.

Bella hadn't thought she'd had any tears left but apparently there was yet another untapped sea. It was different though - warm and healing, leaching out like memories and skins released downstream.

Finally the storm ran its course and Bella found herself straddling a lap, with arms tucked up between her and a steady heartbeat. Big hands roamed, firm and careful, each savoring pass giving form to her flesh. They made one more pass over hips and thighs before climbing her back in tandem to cup her head.

Palms cradling her jaw, Bella let him lift her up as she opened soggy eyes.

His gaze hopscotched over her face as he swept one cheek free of tears then the other. His expression was complex and impossible to read, even if she had the energy to try.

"I don't have much to promise," he murmured in a bass of rippling velvet. "But I can promise this: you're safe as long as you're here."

Bella took control of her head as she sat up a little more and his hands fell slowly to rest on her calves, splayed out on either side of his thighs.

"_You're_ not safe while I'm here," she whispered.

His mouth hitched up in that smirk she was starting to want to hoard in a jar for bad days. "Oh, I'm _very_ fucking safe, princess."

She shook her head sadly, "You don't know him."

Paul's hands ghosted up her sides, a shiver trailing in his wake, until his palms scooped up her jaw again. "Believe me, little one," he tipped his head down as he looked into her eyes. "I _do_, I _will_," he licked his lips. "And he'll die slowly."

He seared the vow into her eyes for another heartbeat and then pulled her in for a brusque kiss to her forehead on the way to wrapping her in safety and tucking her head under his chin.

In that single moment in time – swaddled in his arms against damp flannel and a low booming heartbeat – she actually felt like nothing in the world would dare touch her, even if it could.

Bella's eyes fluttered closed as her exhale rushed, long and silent, over parted lips, expelling years of stale relief. She knew it was just macho grandstanding but it was so profoundly touching that he was doing _his best_ to give her what she needed.

In his own way, he'd been doing that all along.

Bella's hands slipped flat from their unconscious fist in his shirt, and pressed against the bulk of his chest. Like she'd released a buckle, binding arms were instantly slipping away. She sniffled as she looked up.

The gratitude died on her lips as she came face to face with the most mesmerizing man she'd ever seen.

He'd slid down a little on the couch and had his chin tipped down to his chest. Dark waves framed a face with eyes so intense they were feral, burning through the shadows thrown by the fire. He looked mysterious and wild and as handsome as the summer day is long in this arctic place.

"Thank you," she whispered, barely finding the breath to make it audible.

As if in a dream, she stretched up, fully intending to place a tender kiss to his cheek...

But instead she found herself irresistibly caught in the draw of plump russet nested in sable. Her eyes rolled under drooping lids at the cool pull of his inhale, enticing her closer.

Until she kissed him.

She pressed her mouth to rolling satin, broad enough for a perfect landing in a field of brush, and the world as she knew it imploded. The backdraft sucked her in as she crashed against him with a whimper, her lips fusing greedily to his. He tasted so good: warm espresso and chicory sweet with a hint of exotic spice like cardamom.

Warm palms barreled up her back until her head was clamped in a trap between hands so big, the vise of fingers wrapped at the back of her head. She submitted instantly into limp and longing as he sat up into the frantic play of her mouth, effortlessly taking it over.

His lips tugged, capturing her entire mouth in a covetous caress before a hot tongue swiped over her lips and he dove in for more at a different angle. His warm hands held her into his kisses, taking sucking taste after lapping suckle with an aggression like a starving animal devouring its prey through a muzzle.

Bella's face was tilted all the way up as he supported her head with firm grip, tilting it to and fro at his will as he pressed hunger down over her.

She needed more of him inside her.

His tongue was slipping in just enough to flick her teeth and she frantically tried to catch it, and suckle him into this unbearable ache, but he maddeningly denied her.

So instead of deepening, the pace of their kisses became frenetic, their syncopated grunts joining in a shared hum of unbearable need. Hard and fast, it crescendoed into a rumble that screamed through her bones until suddenly he ripped his mouth away with a whooping gasp.

It felt like he'd ripped off a limb.

Shocked, Bella hung boneless from his hands while her breath heaved like she'd just run a mile up a snow-covered hill. She was dizzy and reeling, the world spinning so fast that even the darkness blurred behind her eyes.

Those hands softened their grip, an idle thumb strumming her cheek, before a damp forehead rested heavily against hers. For several minutes or hours or lifetimes they shared their gasps in the moist space between them.

Finally she heard a soft clearing of throat. "What did I tell you about whisky?" he whispered.

As Bella shuffled the meaningless words around in her head, her eyes fluttered open.

Paul was inches away, watching her.

He sat back slowly and cool air and firelight rushed in, shocking her into a flurry of blinks.

Hands slipping away, one palm lingered to smooth over her hair as he cocked his head at her with a private smile.

"Jeezis, you're so fucking tiny," he sniffed, that comforting smirk deepening one corner of his mouth. "I'm gonna have to get creative." A calloused finger brushed her temple as he tucked a wild curl behind her ear.

Sense was starting to trickle into the void. A pucker jumped between her brow as she struggled to understand.

Those luscious lips crept into leer. "I guess you'll just be bouncing all up close and personal with my wolf, huh?" he murmured as a hand patted his heart where the tattoo lurked under the flannel.

Bella's mouth popped open in indignation before her scrabbling brain truly understood the words.

"That is, when you _finally_ break down and ask me to…" He bit his lip and bounced her in his lap with two punctuating thrusts of his hips.

A blush slapped her across the cheeks along with some sense and Bella was scrambling out of his lap with a mortified squeak. She pushed herself across the couch to the far armrest as Paul watched with laughter in his eyes and the devil in his smile.

"You're _so_-…!" Bella launched into a habitual rail, before she hopelessly lost the track. While his familiar gibes were helping shore up the mush that passed for mind and body, there was no denying they were miles away from familiar territory.

But maybe he needed it like this.

Or maybe she did.

Paul's deep licorice laugh rippled across the room as he stood from the couch and took several steps toward the fire, languidly cracking his neck.

And then he hiked up his crotch with a shameless readjustment.

He glanced over his shoulder– of course she was looking – and a slow wry smile slipped into the shadows before he prowled off toward the table.

Embarrassed and generally out of her mind, Bella yanked her knees up to her chest and squeezed them tight. She leaned back stiffly against the arm rest and watched that dangerous sway as he storde toward the stove in the corner of the kitchen.

She couldn't for the life of her form any coherent thought, but her body, on the other hand, had never been so damn loquacious. It was humming and aching and yearning and craving and…

And, holy hell, that had been her _first kiss_.

She _swore to God_, anything that had gone before by the name was simply a flim-flam sham. Awestruck fingers drifted up to flutter over her lips.

After all these years of cold and chaste had she simply forgotten? No, she'd kissed a few boys before _him_ and in comparison it was like a second grade rehearsal for a Broadway play.

Oh my God, Bella had _kissed_ him. And boy had he given one back…

Folding her arms over her bent knees, she rubbed her lips slowly back and forth over her finger. In those heated moments she'd have given him anything without a second thought because there'd been decidedly no thinking involved. For _her_.

But _he_ hadn't taken it.

Even though she'd nearly suffocated on his passion, _Paul_ had pushed a little but barely stepped over the line. Right now, she couldn't even fathom why she'd had one in the first place. Bella was starting to believe he was right: keeping her distance was looking like a hopelessly lost cause.

The sudden rasp and flare of a match burned through her daze and Bella's head jerked up to find Paul standing several feet away at the table behind the couch. Chin tipped down he was lighting one of the lamps and silently watching her from shadowed eyes.

Heat seeping into her cheeks, Bella's hand fell from absently caressing her lips as she tore her gaze away, rearranging herself uncomfortably on the couch.

"I've got the stove going."

A quiet bass brought her back to where he was replacing the glass over the second lantern. His eyes slipped up and met hers, dark chestnut looking backlit-deep in the lamplight.

With a crisp jerk, he shook out the match in his hand. "You can cut up some onion and potato if you want," he murmured. "We're having homefries and smoked meat for dinner."

Licking lips that tingled still, Bella sat up more, a jolt of adrenaline rippling through the heaviness of her body. She didn't know how to deal with this, but she didn't want him leaving either. "Where're you going?"

Paul's eyes dropped to the lamp as he picked it up off the table. "I' gotta a few things to take care of outside."

And then turned on his heel.

Bella bolted upright, feeling strangely anxious as she watched him walk away with that long stride. He stepped brusquely into his boots, one after another, on his way to yanking a parka from the hook on the rack.

Bella climbed the back of the couch to her knees as he threw it over his arm.

"_What things_?" the question jumped her lips with a kind of desperation.

Across the dim room, Paul paused with his hand on the door. He turned over his shoulder, just enough that she could see his cheek in the dancing lamplight.

He sniffed a laugh. " 'Just gotta run out a little wild, princess."

With that he pulled open the door.

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_Review if you like._


	7. Of Wolves and Men

Thanks for the notes, faves/follows. Gives me good feels. Hope this little story does the same for you.

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A word of warning for this chapter: _warning_.

*chuckles at her own dorky joke* Seriously though, I'd be interested to get your f/b on this one. Don't hate me, but it's the longest chap so far. Even still, if I had the right, I'd ask you to take a little time with it and not just plow on through.

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Not that anyone cares, but I'm mixing up a few realities: the book mentioned does exist but the premier biologist is L. David "wolfman" Mech. His title just isn't as good.

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Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy.

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**Chapter 7 – Of Wolves and Men**

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The soft splash of water swam through the house over the pop and crackle of fire.

Bella's unseeing eyes were resting on a page, scratched with black marks she couldn't read if her life depended on it. All she could think about was the sluice of water.

Over caramel skin.

Running in twisting rivulets through the creeks and canyons of male bulk.

She clenched her eyes closed, hoping it could squeeze away the wayward fantasy, but it just made the image bloom all the more vibrant in her mind's eye.

_Crap._

Opening them wide - with several firm swipes of her lids to rid herself of the afterimage that seemed burned into her retina - Bella's gaze fell to her hand, restlessly picking at the cracked leather on the armrest of the easy chair.

_God, she was hopeless._

Paul had rocked her world, clear on its ear, and Bella wasn't sure what to do with herself now. She felt all wound up like someone had shucked all the blood to her crotch and she was seconds away from imploding.

Or _exploding_, maybe?

Bella had never felt this...

Desire. _Demand_. A gluttonous lust. For more.

God, she wanted _more_ of him. So much more. It seemed he'd awakened something couldn't be turned off and forgotten - she felt like she'd been living in a monochrome world and was finally seeing color. She couldn't believe she'd existed so long in the dark.

With a sigh, she propped her cheek heavily on her fist, letting her eyes sweep out to the fire.

Seth was watching her where he was curled up on the rug and resting his muzzle on his paws. At least he'd calmed down now.

Shortly after Paul had left, the night had fallen hard enough to wake the nocturnal shift and the valley below had come alive with the howls of wolves. Long, mournful and spooky as hell, their cries had echoed off the mountainside, like a chorus of reed flutes lifting in sweeping minor chords.

In her shack down the mountain, Seth had always paid close attention, but here – in their territory, she supposed – they drove him wild. With her knees pulled up tightly to her chest, Bella had anxiously watched the half-wolf pace the house in an agitated circuit with chuffs and answering yowls. If she hadn't heard this Pack nearly every night she'd been here, she might have been tempted to think Paul really _did_ have some kind of mystical lupine juju.

The beasts were still at it when Paul had stomped in with snow an hour later, silencing Seth's wails with a single look that sent him scurrying to his place by the fire.

"It's a full moon," Paul had mumbled as he peeled off his parka. "The pack's hunting tonight."

And that's pretty much the last thing he'd said the whole night.

Bella had made home-fries while he prepared the meat and then they'd eaten in the same over-steeped silence at opposite ends of the table – no crass innuendos, no pushing brushes… hell, barely a glance her way.

Bella hadn't been able to decide whether it was annoying or just a relief.

Then they'd cleaned up the kitchen, wordlessly orbiting each other like planets. Because of his hand, she'd washed and Paul had dried but he took each plate with a pointed avoidance of skin and eye. Leaned back against the counter, with one foot propped over the other, he'd chased private thoughts through the room while he mechanically toweled off anything she handed his way.

By then, she'd decided he was driving her bat-shit crazy (in other words, nothing new).

Huffing a breath, Bella scowled up at the sheet Paul had tacked up over the bathroom doorway, symbolic of these new flimsy barriers they'd erected between them. It was like now that the lines were blurring, the armor came out. He'd ignored her in the past, but the difference this time was that it _hurt_.

And she wasn't quite sure why.

Heaving another sigh, she picked her heavy braid off her shoulder where it was leaching water through another shirt she'd borrowed from him after her bath – along with long underwear and a singlet. Even with the sheet-cutain, Bella had felt exposed so she'd sped through washing her hair and body in the water he'd warmed on the stove. But at least it felt good to be clean.

Clean hadn't lasted long.

Bella shifted in the chair uncomfortably, feeling the slippery cream between her thighs that had generously soaked her one pair of panties two times over - once before her bath and now imagining him in it. Thankfully Paul had mumbled something about laundry tomorrow.

Bella glanced down to the rug where Seth had finally closed his eyes and – watching him like somehow he'd sell her out - Bella slipped a surreptitious hand between her legs…

And pressed.

_God, she ached. _

She'd never had this feeling before, this pressure. With the experiences she'd had, she wasn't in the habit of touching herself, but suddenly masturbation was looking a little tempting.

Another howl twisted into the night outside and Seth's head jerked up as he pushed off the floor, making Bella's guilty hand snap back to the armrest.

The wolf's cry was answered by others and suddenly the dog was tipping up his muzzle to the rafters. He released a long hollow bay-...

"SHUT IT, MUTT!" Paul barked from the bathroom.

The ear-piercing yowl silenced abruptly as the animal dropped back down to his belly with plastered ears, turning a chagrinned muzzle toward the bathroom.

A second later the makeshift curtain was being pushed aside by a fully-dressed Paul.

In an untucked – but _buttoned_ - flannel, jeans and bare feet, there was no shirtless parade or towel-wrapped boundary-pushing this time.

Bella was disappointed.

She dropped her gaze to the book as a blush hit her cheeks hard, like he could read her mind. If he could, he didn't say a word on the matter, just like this whole tortuous evening.

In her periphery, she saw Paul stalk toward the fireplace and her eyes ventured up from under her lashes. His gaze was focused on the fire as he idly wound another bandage around his hand. Bella picked her head up a little more as he squatted in front of the flames and shoved in another log.

This cold (clothed) shoulder was simply more than she could bear.

Huffing a breath, she rested her hands on the same book she'd been trying to read all day. She still didn't know the freaking title.

"Are you mad?" she bit out, with a little more venom than she'd intended.

Paul pushed the log further into the fireplace with a poker. " 'Bout what?" he sniffed a laugh.

He was going to make her _say_ it. The man was _impossible_.

Bella heaved another annoyed sigh as she sat up straighter in the chair. "Oh, I dunno," she snorted. "Do you want to talk about _that kiss_?"

Paul turned slowly over his shoulder with that damn smirk locked into place. "I don't do _talk_, princess."

Bella narrowed her eyes at him with a sullen purse of lips.

"And it's simple really," with that savage grace, he congealed up to his feet, turning at the same time. "You want me, now you know it, and you'll break down and ask… _eventually_."

Being on the receiving end of that intensity for the first time this evening reminded her how intimidating he could be. Bella tucked her chin.

"Or you won't," he continued in that velvet bass as he took a step toward her. "I'm just waiting for you to decide whether I'm worth a night on a _pit stop_."

Bella blinked, her attention focusing in that searing stare. Was he feeling… _bitter_?

Whatever she thought she saw evaporated in his dark leer. "The first option's fun," he purred. "The other's as boring as fuck like that book by wolfman Lopez."

Eyes plummeting to the book in her hand, she tipped it halfway closed to examine the cover. _Of Wolves and Men _by Barry Lopez – "the world's foremost lupine biologist."

" 'You enjoying that chapter, princess?"

Bella quickly folded it open to the page her hand held: _Chapter 5 – Courtship and Mating._

Coughing disgust from the back of her throat, she snapped the traitor book closed and shoved it between her thigh and the armrest, crossing her arms over her chest.

Paul's chuckles rolled through the room and she hated that the sound was so comforting, even when it was at her expense. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him amble closer until he stuck a bandaged hand into her face.

Bella's gaze snapped up to the loose ends. "Did you put salve on it?" she grumbled, hands automatically lifting to tie it. But just the incidental brush of the heel of her hand over his knuckles made every cell settle with a visceral sigh.

"It's good," he murmured.

Bella looked up into his face, tipped down, so he was watching her from under that brow. It was swarming with shadows from the fire.

"Let me see," she mumbled, starting to pull the strips away instead.

But Paul jerked his hand away so harshly it ripped the cloth from her fingers. She looked up in surprise.

"I don't need _babying_," he sniffed to his hand as he brusquely wrapped the cloth back over his knuckles.

When he tucked the end under and leaned down to bite it with his teeth, Bella thrust her hand out petulantly.

With a wry smile he held it out again.

"Oh that's right," she snorted bitterly. "You don't need _anything_ - no talking, no babying, just food, fighting and-…" she sneered at the knot as she finished it off.

"Fucking," he provided helpfully as he pulled his hand free, absently flexing his knuckles against the binding.

Crossing her arms over her chest again, Bella sat back in the chair.

"But I left something out of that repertoire."

Bella looked up to his grin.

"Sleeping," he swiped the brush from the armrest of the chair, and pulled it haphazardly through his wet waves as he turned unceremoniously and slunk off toward the bed. "I _like_ my sleep," he drawled over his shoulder. "And I've gotten damned little of it lately."

Bella turned in the chair watching him saunter away.

"Thanks to a certain little girl," he tossed the brush down on one of the chests by the bed. Shoving his hands through his hair, he then unfolded bulky arms to the ceiling in a feline stretch.

"I get the bed," he announced in a groan, and then turned, lowering himself to the side of the mattress as his eyes swept out to her stare. "You can join me and save us both the nightmare," his smile glittered wolvishly from the shadows. "Or stay up and read that stupid book."

Holding her gaze a second longer, he then swung his legs up onto the bed and lowered himself back, closing lazy eyes. "But I gotta sleep," he murmured under his breath.

He heaved a long sigh as he pushed both hands under his head and crossed his ankles.

Turned around halfway in the chair, Bella watched him for a moment.

Several moments.

Arms cocked and big body stretched out with that nervy swagger even at rest, she didn't know whether she wanted to shake him or crawl into the safety of his side.

No, that was a lie.

With a sigh, Bella turned around and let her head flop back against the chair. She stared up at the rafters, weaving shadows across the vaulted pine ceiling.

He'd _said_ she could join him, but her pride…

With another long-suffering sigh she picked her head up to find the dog watching her from the rug with his tongue hanging out, like he was laughing at her. Brow furrowing in annoyance at _everything_, Bella yanked the book up from the chair.

She stared numbly at the close-up photo of a wolf staring back… _knowingly_.

Of wolves and men.

Yeah? Well _both_ of them were freaking annoying as hell, as far as she was concerned. She opened the book… somehow magically to that same embarrassing chapter.

Snapping it shut again she tossed it over to the couch, scowling after its bouncing landing.

"Get over here," she could hear the smile in that grumble.

Squenching up her face in aggravation for a moment, she turned over her shoulder to see Paul's head tipped over, watching her with humor pulling up the side of his mouth.

Slapping her palms on the armrests, Bella pushed herself out of the chair. Part of her wanted to flop onto the couch in rebellion, but it was a pretty weak, feeble, hopeless part.

Shoving her hands into her armpits, she glanced down at Seth's smug muzzle and stomped off toward the bed like a belligerent little kid.

Paul smothered his smile as he tipped his face back to the ceiling, closing his eyes.

As usual, his sheer intimidating bulk both made her pause and tugged her closer like he had his own personal gravity.

Paul simply ignored her, like he did oh, so well.

Licking uncomfortable lips, Bella sat on the very edge of the mattress, tearing her eyes away from that strong profile and panning out to the room. How could she do this and keep her dignity…?

Suddenly she was being scooped up into thick arms and pulled across the mattress.

Bella squeaked in surprise as they swaddled her like cables, effortlessly rearranging her back against his chest as he pulled her down to the bed.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, struggling feebly against him.

Undaunted, Paul pulled her body flush against his with a guttural groan, curling his knees under her thighs in a steel spoon. His chin tucked down over her head, holding her there like a vise. He was so big that she fit like a puzzle piece into the grotto of his torso.

His arms squeezed her tight. "I'm the only one doing any humping tonight," he purred.

Bella froze, mortified stiff.

Paul's chuckle reverbreated down her spine. "Seth," he rumbled. "C'mere, mutt. Do your thing."

The dog seemed to appear out of nowhere and was suddenly hopping brightly up onto the bed. He snuffled Bella's face making her squeeze her eyes closed with a shake of her head since she was pretty much straight-jacketed.

"Lay down," Paul mumbled lazily, like he was already slipping into slumber.

With a chuff the animal obediently slid into his slinking circle and flopped down between Bella and the edge of the bed, pushing his back into her knees. Resting his muzzle on his paws he blinked at her once and then closed his eyes with a doggy sigh.

Bella wasn't sure which was more soothing - Seth's unassuming comfort or this man's strong embrace - but she found herself slowly relaxing against the burly bicep under her cheek. Her hands slipped up tentatively to grip the forearms wrapped so snuggly around her.

_It felt good._

Sandwiched between these two she could forget dangerous pasts, complicated presents, and futures that were uncertain at best… if only for the night. Swaddled in fur and heated strength, an unconscious sigh slipped over her lips as her eyes drifted closed.

"Mm… this is good," Paul slurred, his words mixing up in her head as he tucked her closer with his chin and knees. "I'm just such a physical creature, princess."

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Bella woke with her face pressed into a thick pelt. Without a thought, her hand stretched behind her to find nothing but the empty plains of mattress. That cocoon of cedar warmth had disappeared leaving her high and dry, unconsciously seeking comfort in the big wolf-dog's sea of fur.

Sleepily rubbing her nose from the tickle, she turned over. Sure enough, the bed was empty. With a soft sigh, she stared dumbly at Seth's shadow, dancing like a puppet show in the firelight up the vaulted overhang the bed was tucked under.

Paul had left… again.

Maybe her nightmares were still too loud, but – oddly enough – she couldn't remember any. In fact she couldn't even remember dreaming. Whether it was the alcohol or the warmth of those arms, Bella had fallen into a death-deep slumber that left her feeling sluggish and disoriented, but grounded deep in her gut.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept so soundly.

Bella squeezed her eyes closed for a moment as she smeared the sleep away with a clumsy palm and then turned on her stomach.

What time was it anyway?

Bleary eyes swept toward the windows in front of the house. They were fogged up, but the moon must have set or clouds rolled in because darkness reigned supreme. At this time of year - in this part of the world - the night was a merciless master.

Outside a lone wolf raised his voice in plaintive agreement, long and haunting.

Resting her chin on her hands, she listened to it climb the sky before its listing fade. As it dissipated, the sounds of the cabin rose up in her awakening consciousness – the hollow plunk of water dripping in the sink, a quiet sleeping whine from the dog beside her, the roar of a vigorous fire… and the low distinct sound of deep breathing.

Bella's eyes blinked open. Maybe he'd gotten up to tend the fire and decided to crash on the couch. Picking her head up she shimmied quietly past the dog stretched out beside her…

And nearly had a heart attack.

Paul _wasn't_ sleeping.

Her mind could barely process what she was seeing: lounging in a slump against the couch, his head was resting over the back with one leg splayed out toward the fire and the other braced against the floor. His shirt was open and falling away from a chest whose muscled contours were sketched in flickering shadows.

His jeans were open too.

One hand was running up a long column of swollen flesh to fondle the bulbous tip before thumb and middle finger met to skate back down with a dragging stroke.

Heat slammed into her cheeks and then showered down her body like embers.

Bella snapped her eyes closed, mortified.

But his shaking open-mouthed breaths, deep and slow, seemed suddenly amplified in the hollow of her ear. Her entire world contracted to that sound and her mind rode it hard, barreling through any distraction she tried to throw in its way.

_Holy crap._

Bella's hand slipped up from the bed to cover her face in an effort to keep from opening her eyes again and her swallow rolled in her ear.

"_Bella_."

Her name was no more than a smoky sough that hung in the air but it might just as well have been a scream. Her eyes popped open to find the man thrusting his hand down his erection while he drew breath from the rafters above.

Squinting – because she simply couldn't make her eyes close – Bella shimmied down a half an inch so the dog's side was giving Paul's body at least the privacy it deserved as her gaze shamelessly violated such a private expression.

Head flopped back and eyes squeezed closed, his forehead was lined with longing as he panted quietly over lax sensual lips. That tough, macho, cocky man couldn't look any more vulnerable. It was a glimpse below all the many daylight layers to the artless yearning of a lonely soul seeking comfort and personal pleasure.

And she _knew_ her eyes had no right to witness something so intimate, but no matter how hard she tried, she simply couldn't look away.

Paul bit his lip then and his movements became more vigorous. His free hand snapped up from the couch, ferrying with it a fistful of flannel that he turned into, burying his face.

That was _her_ shirt! Bella's eyes ballooned as she unconsciously leaned closer. But now with a full view of how he was zealously working over that body, she quickly shrank back the half inch behind her screen.

Paul sucked in several breaths from her shirt and then his fist fell back to his side, leaving a grimace etched into his face. Teeth bared, his head pressed back against the couch as his body jerked with the motion of his hand.

Faster and faster, the muscles bulged and twitched in his chest as he started thrusting his hips into the movement, milking soft strangled grunts from his throat. The rhythm crescendoed to jerking violence until suddenly he arched off the couch.

"Shit," he hashed the whispered curse through his teeth, spraying spittle caught by firelight. A glistening sluice spurted over his chest after.

With open-mouthed gasps, Paul slowly melted back against the couch.

And Bella snapped back into her own body.

Her eyes were permanently glued open – she was sure she'd never blink again – and all her synapses were firing at once, creating a clamoring storm in her head whose lightning grounded in her crotch.

Her body was burning as hot as her cheeks.

Paul picked up his head heavily from the couch and the movement was just the distraction she needed from her own hopeless mess. Breath still panting over parted lips, his eyes were half-mast as he stared down his body. Shifting slightly, he lifted a sluggish hand from the couch…

And mopped up his chest with _her_ shirt.

Stuck in purgatory between horror and fascination, Bella watched him wipe over glossy accordion abs and then lift the shirt to his face. He drew in a long soundless sniff that made his eyes droop and then collapsed back against the couch as his hand slowly listed down to his thigh.

Seth hadn't so much as stirred from his slumber.

Paul had been so quiet that she wouldn't have either… if she'd actually been asleep. No doubt about it, she needed to slip back down behind the dog and pretend she was.

But in appalling synchronicity, Seth chose that moment to whine in his sleep and the man's head flopped to the side at the sound.

Paul's gaze snapped to hers, mortified-wide where she was frozen, peering around the dog.

He stared at her a moment and then closed his eyes soundly as he turned back up to the ceiling, releasing a long slow breath through his nose.

"Was it good for you too, princess," he spat, the brass tarnished by acid.

Sniffing a laugh he subtly shook his head, like he couldn't believe it as his hand dragged her shirt over his body.

Bella had never been so ashamed in her life.

_Finally_ she was able to clench those traitor eyes closed.

She'd violated him, pure and simple. Like the voyeur she apparently was, she'd stolen a personal moment and it wasn't just the private act of masturbation. Bella knew deep down in her being she'd witnessed something far more intimate.

_Need_.

She'd seen snatches of it since she'd been here - in his eyes, the shake of his hand, the way he feared, and tried so hard to hide it.

Drawing in a deep breath, she pushed off the bed as she rubbed her palms over her burning face. God, she was _horrible_.

Letting her hands fall to her lap, her gaze swept up to the man still collapsed back against the couch with eyes closed to the ceiling . His chest was rising and falling from exertion and his hand rested idly over her shirt spread over his stomach and crotch.

_Her_ shirt. He wanted _her_.

She wanted him too.

Why _was_ she denying him?

Bella scooted around the dog and Seth lifted a lazy head. She absently petted him as she lowered her legs over the side of the bed.

Why? It wasn't _trust_ – she trusted him. It wasn't propriety – that was lost long ago. It wasn't complication – as he'd said, she could leave in the morning.

It was _fear_. Bella was terrified what would happen if she let herself feel.

Well, she was feeling now, there was simply no help for it. Intentional, consensual or not, they'd shared something intimate.

Bella took slow steps toward the man lying back, quiet and vulnerable, on the couch. She needed to touch him. To comfort him. To show him she was worthy of _his_ trust.

Eyes locked on that face tipped up to the rafters, Bella skirted hesitantly around the back of the couch. His jutting Adam's apple jumped with a thick swallow as she neared.

Standing right behind him, she steadied herself with a hand on the couch and looked down into that fiercely handsome face. Beads of sweat painted caramel skin and glistened in the firelight.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Forget about it," he sniffed a laugh, a shoulder hopping in a skilled mime of blasé.

Bella's palm reached out to that high forehead and smoothed over his hair with tenderness.

Paul's breath caught and those eyes pinched closed tighter. The pads of her fingers fed shamelessly on the touch, making sparks sizzle up her arm.

Her gaze ran over his strong face and then down his body, slumped down the couch with her shirt draped over his modesty. In contrast to the lounge the muscles in his chest were taut and quivering. She drew in a breath that brought the scent of his sex over her tongue, musky and indescribably arousing.

Her fingers combed back through his hair and she leaned over and pressed her lips to his forehead. "No, _I'm sorry, _Paul," she whispered over his skin and then leaned her cheek against him.

God, he felt so good.

No wonder they'd kept such fortified boundaries earlier because even the most chaste touch awoke a bottomless tactile addiction. Her hand smoothed over his temple as she turned her cheek, dragging it over skin slickened by exertion until her lips were planted against his third eye.

"Sorry," she breathed again, feeling the brush of her lips over skin.

Like she moved under water - or maybe just through a thickening haze of scent, heat and billowing desire - she ghosted her nose over his skin up to place a kiss at his hairline.

And then again. A soft caress and then hem of her lips.

It was frighteningly easy to _feel_ for this man in front of her – broken, lonely, wanting her. Her heart split its starchy skin and it bloomed wildly, compassion and tenderness pluming in a tingling swell.

She surveyed each centimeter of his hairline with kisses and then dragged her lips over damp waves down to his jaw. She rubbed her cheek against his, hearing a soft hum light in the back of his throat as he lolled his head to the side.

Bella's heavy eyes cracked to see the exposed tendons, running up into the thickening scruff. Hand still stroking through his hair, she leaned down to press her lips to that pulse jumping frantically right at the shoreline of skin and beard.

"Mm," she hummed quietly, nuzzling under his jaw.

Paul's hand slipped up to her head riding light but wanting as she continued gentle surveying kisses. The salted cedar of his skin drew her tongue to collect several beads along his corded neck.

She dragged her nose through the beard spilling over his neck, sniffing in her warm breath captured by the hairs. Feeling far more drunk than she had from liquor, Bella rooted dreamily into dark waves until she found his ear.

"In case you're wondering," she breathed over the shell, her smile crinkling with his words she threw back from the day. "This is me _asking_. Nicely."

It surprised the humor from her lips when his hand slipped from her head and fell heavily to the couch.

"I don't want your fucking pity," he whispered

Bella pulled back slowly, a confused pucker between her brows.

The tight expression on his face contrasted with how his head was lolled so cravingly to the side.

"This isn't pity," she told him quietly.

Paul rolled his lips as his eyes cut over to her, curved and trembling with conflict. "What is it?"

Bella tipped her chin up with resolve. "It's me," she whispered the words deep into the fearful hollow of that stare. "Telling you I want you, Paul."

His eyes paced between hers several times, deliberate, unhurried, and then his lips spread in a slow and lopsided smile.

"Well, in that case-…"

Before he'd finished the thought, his hand had snaked around the back of her head and was pulling her down and into a sideways kiss.

Bella's surprise melted instantly in the hot sweetness of his open mouth. This kiss was slow and deep, effortlessly spreading her lips, drawing her in and drowning her in cocoa and heavy cream.

His velvet tongue swept into her mouth, stroking the inside of her cheek. With long lush movements he coaxed a yearning groan up from deep inside of her that he lapped off her lips as he slowly sat up. Seamlessly switching hands he pulled her into the languid tug of intoxicating lips as he mapped out her mouth with a bold but graceful tongue.

It should have felt overwhelming to be so suddenly filled with him, but it just woke her smoldering hunger. Palms cradling the back of her head, he rose up to his knees on the couch, tipping her face up and swaying it back and forth to siphon demanding grunts up her throat.

The dance was effortless. His lips led hers with firm and fluent strokes while his tongue kneaded her into pliancy, leaving her burning body to stumble after. Her knees buckled and she fell against the couch where her hands were forgotten fists.

Head held between his big palms, Paul pulled back with a juicy smack that was immediately followed by her gasp of air into vacuum lungs.

"Breathe, princess," he murmured.

Bella's eyes had listed into the back of her head and they rolled slowly forward to his chuckles. Head cocked in that way of his, he was watching her with a small smile playing on his lips. But there was nothing smirky about it – it was soft, quiet… just like his eyes.

Bella blinked, her consciousness flowing back into her body from its dream-walk, and her palms flattened on the couch, pushing herself upright. His hands left her head, dragging slowly down her arms before he sat back on his calves, his feet hanging off the couch behind him.

Severed from that touch, uncertainty seeped back into the surface.

Shirt hanging open over a chiseled chest dusted with dark hairs, her eyes were immediately drawn down his erection, sprouting from an open button fly to nestle against the V of taut abs. In spite of his recent activities, he was dark and ripe and as incredibly well-endowed as the rest of him.

That deep belly laugh awoke her from staring slack-jawed like a simpleton and Bella's chagrinned gaze raced up to find humor tussling with macho gratification.

His brows gave her two sly jumps. "Told you," he crooned, oozing back off the couch.

Bella's blush pounded in her face as her gaze fell to where her hands were fisted again in the upholstery.

"Ah-ah-ah," he chided softly and her eyes automatically snapped back up to that familiar smirk.

Bella grabbed onto it like a life preserver.

"You'll miss the show," he winked.

Holding her gaze he slipped one arm free from his shirt and then the other and let it fall heedlessly behind him as his hands came up to his jeans and pushed them over powerful hips. He broke eye contact as he pushed out of the pants.

Congealing up to that towering height, broad shoulders settled back in primal invitation for her assessment.

Oblivious to the blush that spilled down her chest, Bella's eyes couldn't help but feast. The tribal stripes of his tattoo licked up one brawny shoulder and over a taut pec into the stylized wolf, staring back at her with understandable pride. From burly chest down to ocean-floor abs, strong hips funneled into that thick column of flesh that bobbed heavily as he absently kicked his pants to the side. Muscles rippled under the dark hairs on strapping thighs and down into long athletic calves.

He was the quintessence of male power and virile prime. And, he was, quite simply, _gorgeous_.

Her eyes raced back up to his face to find him watching her with a proud squared jaw and an unreadable expression.

And suddenly the symbolism dawned on her.

Here he was, standing as naked as the day he was born, before her, his fully clothed judge and jury. Whether it was neurosis or power-play or a combination of both, her husband had never fully removed his clothes when he was with her.

Even if he had, it wouldn't have counted. Before her was a completely different breed of man.

It was pretty intimidating.

Paul watched those thoughts flit across her face and the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. "Come, little one," he murmured.

And he held out a hand.

Bella drew in a shaking breath and tore her eyes away, just to find herself again. Hand riding the back of the couch she watched her unsteady feet as she shuffled along it, the knot in her belly twisting with nerves, desire or both, who knew?

She rounded the furniture and swallowed thickly before she looked back up to find Paul had turned with her and was still holding out that invitation. She paused, realizing she was going to have to leave the safety of the couch behind and take steps on her own.

Paul ducked his head down with an impish little curve hidden in the shadows of his beard and just the right amount of humor, "Don't be afraid, little girl."

With a bland flare of nostrils, Bella's hand left the couch. "I'm not _afraid_," she scoffed.

"Oh yeah?" he arched a brow. "What are you?"

Bella bit her lip._ Afraid_. Crap.

Her steps faltered.

"But you shouldn't be," he held her steady with a smirk. " 'Cause the way I see it, you just kissed me from here to fucking Sunday, so-…"

"_You_ kissed _me_," she countered.

Paul's head swayed to the side with a roguish smile. "You kissed me _back_," he purred. "You're a fuck-awesome kisser, princess."

Bella's eyes widened as her subconscious jettisoned verbal shock, "_Really_?"

Biting his lip he nodded slowly. "Best I've had," he paused and his mouth spread in a leer. "And I've had more than my fair share."

Like whiplash her insecurity again flared to life, but her feet didn't seem to care. They were taking one step after another toward him. Her hand reached out automatically to where his was held steady and patient.

Her fingertips brushed over his flattened hand and she heard both of them suck in a reflexive breath. Eyes on their hands, she slipped her palm over his, relishing the spark and stutter in her heart.

"What is it?" she breathed to herself, to their hands, to anyone who was listening.

Paul was. "Chemistry," he murmured, as he slowly turned their hands up until they were pressed palm to palm.

Bella marveled at the difference in their forms. Her fingers barely came up to the last joint of his. As if thinking the same thing the tips curled down over hers.

Narrowing her eyes with thoughts, her fingers slipped between his, slowly lacing their hands. Bella looked back up at him, just as massive and so tall she had to tip her head back.

When they were _touching_ she wasn't afraid. It felt like magic.

Maybe this was the way it always was, maybe she was just defective. "You've had this before?" she asked guilelessly.

Paul eyes darted between hers and she was just thinking that he'd deflect perhaps out of a sense of decorum when he licked his lips.

"Never," he whispered.

And then went down on his knees.

She was surprised, but in a good way - now about her height, she felt a little less intimidated.

Her eye was drawn helplessly to his body straining between them. She quickly yanked it up to the penance of his perfect tawny chest. He was giving her time to adjust – demanding nothing yet, giving her the space to explore this new territory.

And she _needed_ that, no matter how her body wanted to bolt out of the gate.

Her free hand lifted to the wolf burned into his flesh but then paused, her eyes darting instinctively up to his.

Eyes sparkling, he crooned, all sing-song and canny, "You can touch me _wherever_ you want."

Smothering her smile she traced over the stylized muzzle and up the beast's head, feeling his pec shudder under her fingertips. She ghosted them across his collar bone and then smoothed an awed palm over the impossible power packed into his black striped shoulder as she took a step closer.

On his knees before her was a beast of a man, all cocky cheek, brash machismo and sharp broken shards. Yet he was also, in his own clumsy way, _kind_.

Her hand lifted to his face as she found his eyes. "You're not going to change into something different in the morning?" she whispered, tracing his cheek.

He turned into her touch and pressed his lips to her palm. "You've seen all that I am," he murmured and then turned back and squared his jaw. "Except killer, and I'll never let you see that."

The words came so easily for him… _too_ easily. But he made no excuses.

She looked deep into those dark eyes, open fearlessly down to the core of what he was – imperfect, broken, a wild thing in the skin of a man. Her gaze darted back down to the tattoo staring at her from his chest and she traced over its form – so symbolic for the beast that lived in the heart of the man.

And Paul waited. Neither pushing nor demanding.

But he didn't need to –because imperfect and broken and wild – she _wanted_ him. All of him – from his luscious body to his battered soul.

She just wasn't sure how to take it.

"I don't really know what to do," she admitted quietly and then her eyes climbed back up to his with an apologetic squint.

His lips were spread in a full and balanced smile. "I know enough for both of us," he assured her over a chuckle. His hand tugged her closer still. "Start with one of those kick-ass kisses."

Bella could do that.

Her hand slipped up his arm to his jaw as her eyes darted over his face, steeling herself. But she was surprised to find there wasn't much to steel… just looking at him made her want to put her mouth all over him.

Her fingers stroked through scruff that was on the cusp of a full-on beard and her other hand thoughtlessly shimmied free from his to join it on the other side. His palms slipped down to rest at her waist while her fingertips danced over high thick cheekbones, marveling at how attracted she was to this face.

His eyes listed lazily under the attention and she smiled as she combed both hands back through his hair and then ghosted back down to his jaw, cupping him in a touch that was tender. She stared into those heavy lidded eyes for a moment and he stared right on back, all cockiness dropped for just who he was: a naked man on his knees, wanting and waiting for a kiss.

It made her heart soar like a kite, bringing her effortlessly in closer. Tipping her head, she pressed her lips to that broad, well-formed mouth and kissed him with everything she had.

This time Paul didn't take over. His lips responded with a fluid relish but he let her take whatever she wanted.

Bella caressed that mouth with long tender strokes then tipped her head the other way and did it again. She took her time, savoring the brush of silk, the prickle of brush, the way he tasted, the feel of his breath coming in brisk hitching puffs over her cheeks.

She suckled his full lower lip into her mouth and nipped it and then tipped her head up to do the same with the other while her fingers played lightly over his face. It was gentle kiss – exploratory, cherishing. It burned slow and steady, like an oil lamp in a midnight blizzard and enticed the most amazing sounds from his throat.

Bella pulled back so slowly that their lips clung to one another before they parted. Inches away, she looked up to find his eyes were softly closed.

They cracked open enough that she could see the dark iris between drooping lashes. "Best kisser," he whispered.

She smiled as her hands settled on his strong shoulders. "You're just saying that." And she really didn't mind – he was trying to make her feel good. No one had done that before.

Eyes blinking open, he slowly shook his head. " 'Don't lie, remember?" his mouth kicked up into the corner. "I only say bullshit to piss you off."

Bella's smile broadened, even birthing a little giggle, and it felt so awesome.

He smiled in resonance – it was a lovely, quiet thing - as his hand lifted to brush its knuckles over her cheek. Their shared smile withered between them as his eyes strummed over her features with narrowing intensity.

"So gentle," he breathed as he traced the curve of her face and his gaze followed after. "So kind. I can feel it in your kiss," he whispered like he spoke to himself. His other hand rose up to join his in cradling her jaw.

"I always wanted that."

His gaze slowly swept up to hers – open clear down to a battered soul. It broke her heart into tiny little pieces that flooded her eyes. He stared at her for a moment, looking almost lost. She heard his swallow over the soft pops of the fire, flickering at their side.

Sniffling, her hands came up to his thick wrists and circled them.

God, she wanted to give him everything and it was terrifying. But she would, at least for one night.

"Tonight, I'm yours," she told him quietly.

The smile that overtook his face started with a green-flash of sadness but bloomed quickly into a sunrise grin. "I'll take it."

Bella smiled with him, trying to let the past and the future fall away… just for this night.

Holding her gaze, his palms left her face and his fingertips slowly trickled down the sides of her neck, her own hands riding with them. He followed her pulse down to the collar of the borrowed shirt where he slipped under them and then paused meaningfully.

This was it.

Sucking in an unconscious breath, Bella's hands fell from his to the buttons where she started freeing them down the front. She broke their gazes as she watched her fingers slip each pearly button out of its hole. Her hands were shaking but she also felt somehow steady in this arms.

She looked back up to find his gaze strumming over her face. His eyes caught hers as he slipped his palms over her shoulders, slowly pushing the shirt away. As big as it was on her, it fell heavily to the floor, pooling at her feet so she was standing only in the singlet at the ridiculous rolled down long underwear.

A heavy blush rushed to her cheeks, pulling eyes and head down with it.

But a big finger caught her flight, gently tipping up her chin to that steady gaze. "You're beautiful," he whispered.

Bella squinted uncomfortably and he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips before his hands urged her around. She complied without thought, feeling a little less exposed facing away from him and into the dark house. On the bed with his head on his paws, Seth was watching them with lazy interest like a rerun tv show.

Bella smiled, clutching the comfort of the humor - and the dog - close to her wildly beating heart.

Paul's hands brought her back, ghosting down her bare arms and dragging callouses that raised chills in their wake until they jumped to her waist. One hand stayed there as she felt the other tug the band from her wild braid.

"I like to see it free," he murmured, right behind her ear.

Biting the hell out of her lip, she nodded senselessly as she felt the tugging weave of his fingers. Both hands pulled the braid apart at the top and then separated it out with soothing strokes so that it fell heavily down her back.

She felt him bury his face in the nape of her neck and inhale deeply.

"Why were you sniffing my shirt?" she asked thoughtlessly.

"Mmm," he hummed into her hair. "Because I fucking _love_ the way you smell."

"I don't have BO," she gasped as she whipped over her shoulder – suddenly a little frantic that this followed in the same vein as snores and humping legs.

Paul was right behind her. "You smell sweet enough to eat," his lips spread in wolfish leer. "Which is exactly what I'm gonna do."

Bella blinked at him as his hands returned to her waist and then slid over her hips, removing the pants and panties in one sweep before she'd even consciously realized it. A blush hit her hard as she turned back around, feeling vulnerable, but this time Paul didn't stop.

She supposed it was like ripping off a band-aid, because those firm, sure hands were now running up her sides, shucking the singlet with them.

"I wanted to take this slow," he murmured into her hair as his hands skidded back down her ribs. " 'Dunno if I can."

His palms smoothed back up her front and pulled the tank up, lifting her arms with firm hands. He pulled it over her head and then along the curtain of her hair before tossing it toward the hearth.

"God, you're just so goddamn beautiful."

Now completely nude, Bella's arms automatically tried to wrap her in a parody of modesty. One covered her breasts while the other wound around her waist. No sooner had they settled there, then warm bulk was following suit, finding each hand and pulling it away. Tucking her chin, she squeezed her eyes closed as he laced his big hands over the back of hers…

And then wrapped her up tight in both their arms.

He pulled her back against him and she couldn't help but melt into his heat, sinking into the bulk of his chest surrounding her.

"I'm the one who holds you tonight, little one," he whispered by her ear. "Trust me, I'll take care of you." He nuzzled the words into the side of her neck, his beard tickling her skin.

Drawing in a deep shaking breath, she leaned her head back against his. No man had ever taken care of her before - except for her dad and Jacob - but somehow over one short week, she'd grown to implicitly trust this one to do so. As she relaxed into him she could feel the heavy press of his erection at the small of her back. She marveled at the fact that instead of uncomfortable, it was arousing.

And so were the hot open-mouthed kisses Paul was no placing along her shoulder.

Bella closed her eyes as he awoke each inch of her skin with his mouth. His hands wiggled free from hers and found her hips, as he continued to brand her with searing presses of his mouth.

She wasn't quite sure how she'd gotten there but suddenly she was facing him again - his lips were suckling over her collarbone. Blind hands tentatively lifted to his flexing shoulders. In the anonymous darkness of closed eyes, she snaked them around his head, combing through his hair as he kissed her, prickle and silk and fire, now up the column of her neck. With a sigh, Bella tipped her head back to get more of his ravenous kisses and he gave them, painting her neck with desire.

Paul nipped at her pulse, whipping it into a sprint and the sound of her own moan surprised her eyes open to the rafters. But instantly her face was being pulled back down.

"Don't think," he gasped.

Bella only glimpsed Paul's heavy-lidded stare before her mouth was smothered by a torrid kiss. Everything was forgotten in the explosion of rabid heat in her gut.

Starbursts bloomed behind eyelids closed again by the sheer shock to her system. He greedily suckled her tongue into his mouth and stroked it with heated velvet, the hard heavy pulls of his mouth trying to swallow her whole. Groaning deep in his throat, his hands smoothed possessively down her back to knead her ass, pulling her flush with his pelvis. His body was hot and hard against hers and it drove her stark raving wild.

While he gorged on her mouth, his hands slipped intimately between her cheeks as he lifted her up off her feet, spreading her legs at the same time as he curved covetous hands around her inner thighs. Her legs naturally wrapped around him as he sat back on his heels, pulling her with him as he stroked the tingling roof of her mouth with come-hither strokes of his tongue.

Hands tugging at his hair, she pulled him closer, kissing him back - deep and desirous – with the sticky burn of a sweltering southern afternoon.

God, _closer_. She couldn't get close enough, she wanted to crawl inside this skin.

Suddenly she felt the world tip on its axis as he shifted and she was being cradled in one strong arm while the other lowered them to the floor. Her fingers dug frantically into the satin over steel of his shoulders as she was let down onto a furry bed while their mouths continued to duel.

His delicious weight pressed slowly down over her.

It was too much, it was not enough.

Tearing her lips from his she threw her head back with a moan as that heated ridge of flesh pressed over the burn between her thighs. His lips suckled on without pause, tongue licking over her cheek, over jaw, stumbling and staggering toward her ear.

"Spread out on this soft, soft rug," he murmured sultry and low before he pulled the lobe between erotic teeth.

Chills exploded over the entire left side or her body and she shuddered under him. With dark chocolate chuckles, he followed them down her neck with his mouth, laving them away with his tongue.

Bella squeezed her eyes closed as she tried to keep her sanity above the flood of feelings rushing through her. _ He_ had never let her touch him but she couldn't seem to take her hands off Paul - they were clawing rabidly over his flexing back as he surveyed her chest with hot, open-mouthed kisses and swipes of his tongue.

But when her nipple was taken by moist heat, all semblance of composure shattered.

Bella arched up into him with a cry as her hands fisted in his hair.

Paul just took more of her into his mouth, suckling hard and siphoning up muggy desire in a flush that climbed her chest and drained between legs clenched as tight as they could around his broad ribs.

"God, so fucking sweet," he mumbled as he switched sides and then ravaged her other breast like a starving man, sucking and nipping and lapping.

Bella writhed under him with shameless moans, her fists tangled in his hair and riding his undulating head.

Suddenly Paul broke free from her breast and shocking cold rushed in as he threw his head back in her hands. Bella's eyes snapped open to find his clenched closed while he tugged breath through bared teeth.

"I can't," he ground out to the ceiling and then tipped his head down. His eyes were feral and wild, catching firelight and holding it in midnight irises. "I can't wait," he whispered huskily.

Bella's brain was trying to fight its way back through the rapids of insanity, but before she could comprehend the words, he was scooting down her body. Burly arms snaked under her thighs like steel cables, pulling them firmly wide…

And Paul dove zealously between her legs.

Shrieking, Bella sat up, her hands shoving at his head… but the first swipe of his tongue threw her into such a sensual shock, that she slithered helplessly back down to the thick fur.

He captured her entire crotch in a hot mouth that vibrated with his deep blissful hum.

"Paul!" Bella shrilled, pushing a stubborn head. "What are y-…?"

Words disintegrated in her rushing moan as he pushed his tongue right into the center of that ache. Those fending hands fisted roughly into his hair, yanking him closer instead.

It felt _so freaking good_.

Paul ate her out with voracious abandon, lapping and suckling while she groaned through gritted teeth and held on for dear life. No one had ever done this and Bella could barely stand how his mouth stoked every nerve to detonating cord.

But then he latched on something that felt like it was the blue-flame core and with an open mouthed shriek, she arched up off the floor, her hands slapping the rug. With his suckling mouth on that spot, Paul ignited kerosene blood and her avid heart pumped it into a raging wildfire.

One of those hands slipped from its vise-like grip of her thigh and seconds later, a delicious pressure was pushing into her body…

Right where she wanted it. And holy crap, did she want it.

"Oh God!" she cried, tipping her head all the way back with the arch of her quivering body. "God-god-god-god…" she panted as the pleasure rose higher and higher and-…

Paul's mouth popped free, leaving her dangling somewhere miles in the stratosphere.

"See, 'told you," he chuckled, and then lapped a tongue up her center, making her jerk.

Bella was pretty much delirious but the smug humor burned through some of the haze. She tipped her head down to complain...

But froze in the hypnotic sights of a predator.

Paul was brushing his whiskered chin back and forth over her mound with a leisure that was in stark contrast to the preying heat in those eyes. Holding her gaze, he leaned down and lapped a slow pointed tongue between her folds, leaving Napalm in his wake.

Then he rose up like a muscular tide, prowling over her on one hand, all panther slink, while the other milked a thick finger in and out of her sopping crotch. Firelight made his skin sepia soft as he settled down beside her and propped his head in hand. Feral eyes caressed covetously over her face as if he was consuming each pore.

All while, slowly - agonizingly slowly - that hand pumped her hunger into roaring revving neutral.

Bella's eyes were swimming in her head as he leaned over her, his hot, heavy erection pushing into her thigh.

His breath was sweet, so sweet over her face. "You're fucking perfect, Bella Swan," he whispered.

And then he kissed her.

Any question of how he knew her full name – or whether it was, in fact, her name at all - was instantly burned away by a flame-thower ardor. She could feel her own wetness in his beard, taste and smell her own desire, as he feasted on her mouth with unapologetic hunger.

Bella's hand reached up to dig into his flexing shoulders and the other clawed into his back as, like a 16 story roller coaster, he cranked her body back up to the sky.

But like he knew – and she would bet money that he did – suddenly his aggressive mouth softened into long, deep pulls as he slowly removed his finger.

Bella gasped his breath into her lungs as she arched brazenly up into his cupping palm, searching for that pressure again.

Paul's mouth oozed away from hers to place lazy, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw. "Not yet, princess," he chuckled wickedly by her ear. "I want that brass ring on my cock."

He nipped at the lobe of her ear and her overheated body exploded in chills. Lapping in the hollow behind her ear, he then pulled back.

Bella's eyes snapped to his dark chocolate stare.

"Are you ready yet?" he whispered, his hand leaving the cupping hold on her crotch.

Beyond words, Bella whimpered at the loss of that heat. Her bloated mind wasn't entirely sure what he was asking but her body wanted everything it could get.

Eyes plucking intensely over her face, Paul's hand rose and his middle finger painted down the bridge of her nose with her own juices, making her blink rapidly as sentience tried to fight up from under 50 leagues of delirious.

But then suddenly he was on top of her in a head-spinning roll. Contrastingly sensual and slow, he leaned in lapped up the wet line.

"Just like honey n' cream," he breathed over her forehead as his weight settled back over her, shimmying her thighs wider apart.

Braced on his elbows over her, ravenous eyes again found hers. His hips pressed upwards, pushing hard heat into that burning apex of her thighs.

"Ready?" he whispered.

Bella nodded minutely.

Paul's lips spread in a sly smile as he continued to press just the blunt teasing tip against her body. "No, I don't think you are," he chuckled breathily as he tucked his head down.

And kissed her like he wanted to eat her alive.

This kiss was savage and voracious, there was nothing gentle about it: their mouths dueled in a relentless rising fervor of clicking teeth, bumping noses and slurping tongues as their heads tipped back and forth in a kata choreographed with white-hot want.

The weight of him stoked that hunger ever higher - cremating her alive from the inside out. With a low moan that made his lips vibrate, one hand shimmied under her head and the other under her tailbone as he crushed her to into his withering heat.

"Fuck," Paul spat against her teeth as his body shifted up to press more of that thick arousal between her legs. His hips began to rub against her with a fledgling rhythm that made her thighs spread in compulsive invitation even as her toes dug into his hips.

Bella was practically gulping him down with frantic movements of her mouth against his own ardent claiming. She felt like she was drowning - in his need, in her want - held down by his weight under viscous burning ardor.

But still her body arched, aching for more.

With a gasp of overwhelm, Bella broke the kiss, frantically surfacing for air even as her hands tried to rake him closer

Paul's mouth was merciless. His lips seamlessly spilled over her face to burn a trail across her jaw down to her neck and a spot that made her buck against him with a wanton moan. Clenching her eyes shut, she tried to tame her heaving breath as Paul's lips suckled and pulled at the skin on her neck with soft smothered grunts against her. Her nails dug ravenously into his skin as hot mouth stoked her body's pining to its breaking point.

She was going to die… incinerating alive to nothing but ash in this crushing passion, this desire, this need-...

"God, _PLEASE_!" she shrieked.

Paul's mouth paused and she felt him smile against her neck. "Please _what_?" he mumbled into her skin.

"Just-…!" Words were such foreign things. "Please, just… _do it_!"

He pulled back, that smirk now on full display. "Are you _begging_, princess?" he crooned and then dropped a luscious wet kiss over her lips before she could answer.

He pulled away with a smack.

"_Yes_!" she gasped, gaze crazed and wide.

"My pleasure," he purred.

And then he was sitting up.

Bella's frantic hands followed after him.

Paul spread his knees, pushing her legs apart wider, as one hand stretched out to her desperate reach. She clasped onto it with a clumsy death-grip like a drowning victim.

His other fisted around straining erection between his thighs. "Just to be clear," he murmured through a deviled smile. " 'This what you want?" he rubbed the column up the folds of her swollen flesh.

Bella could only moan in response, her eyes rolling under her lids.

"Yeah, you're ready," he chuckled low. "Princess?"

Every ounce of attention was on the thick heat he was rubbing up and down a moat of fire.

"Babe?" he called again, squeezing her hands with a little shake. "Bella?"

Her eyes cracked obediently open to find him watching her with an expression wrung dry of snark for dark and decadent intensity. It was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen.

"I wanna see your eyes," he whispered.

Holding her in yawning eyes, Paul dragged that hard heat down her slick flesh and then slowly pressed it right into the heart of the ache.

Bella gasped, as her body froze in elated shock. Right _there_.

Eyes locked with hers, he wiggled his fingers free from her wooden hands and shifted forward, angling that hardness into the burn. Then he crawled slowly over her, stretching her open millimeter by millimeter along the way.

Bella's hands reached out to welcome him closer. But he broke eye contact as he tucked his head down with a sudden pounce on a nipple that made her cry out. Laving kisses over her chest, up her neck, over her jaw Paul pressed his body into hers with a patience that was pure agony while Bella's fingers yanked roughly on his hair, trying to pull in more of him.

Up her throat, to her jaw, his lips then took her panting mouth in a delirious embrace as he paused, giving her time to adjust to his size, sheathed now only inches in. His big body curved over her, he pumped with little experimental jerks.

Breaking the kiss he breathed the words over her lips. "So beautiful," his beard plucked at her skin and she stretched up to lick that sweetness off his mouth. "So mine."

He ground the claim into her mouth as his hips thrust into her, sheathing himself to the hilt.

Bella's world blew apart at the seams. Or maybe it came together. All she knew was she'd never be the same.

While she panted on the burning edge between stretching pain and crushing pleasure, Paul climbed up higher, stretching out so his long body was flush with hers. Shaking hands slithered under his arms and her nails dug into the muscles quivering under sweat-slicked skin as she pressed her face into his shoulder.

" 'You okay, lover?" he murmured as a hand stroked over the top of her head.

Bella nodded mutely against him, too far gone for words.

His big palm, slipped down to cradle the back of her head to him as he pulled out of her with a sumptuous drag and then pushed just as slowly back in making her hiss into the black wild of his tattoo.

"I couldn't help myself, little one," he breathed as he moved in and out of her body with lazy strokes of hard heat that painted fire over the burn.

"I've dreamed of this since I first laid eyes on you. 'Beautiful hair spread over this fur," he pulled out each word and the pumped the next back in on a hypnotic croon. "This tiny little body, the taste of creamy skin, those big brown eyes looking up at me."

He shifted over her, letting her limp head gently down to the rug. "I wanna see your face when you cum for me," he murmured in that licorice bass.

And he pushed off her.

With a mewling cry, she reached up after him as he sat back, eyes razor intense and black. He snaked his arms under her knees and caught her hands against each of her thighs, holding them there in a firm but careful grip.

Bella was panting like she'd run a mile as he settled his knees wide and pulled her closer by her spread thighs, all the while keeping the samba sway of priming hips.

His eyes ate her alive for a moment. "Ready, princess?" It was a rhetorical question.

Then he started fucking her.

Vigorous and deep, each thrust hit some magical spot that was pure nirvana as he pounded pleasure past her lips in gasping shrieks. That roller coaster turned rocket, blasting her out of his carefully cultivated erotic craze.

Throwing her head back, Bella arched off the floor, desperate for more. And God, he gave it to her good. Each pump of his hips yanked her up impossibly higher at g-force speed, past oxygen and sense, until she shattered the sky.

Paul pounded the aftershocks into her body, making her cry warble as she rained back down in fluttering sparks of euphoria.

Suddenly strong arms were scooping up the pieces, drawing her up off the floor and swaddling her against his chest.

Their bodies were still joined where she sat in his lap, as his hands roamed covetously over her body. "Yeeaaah, baby," he purred in her ear.

Breath heaving Bella rubbed her nose slowly back and forth over his chest as slow-drip sanity trickled back into play. She felt one of those hand slink up to slowly wind its way into her hair.

Paul pulled her head up with a delectable tug on the roots that made her eyes roll in her head. Her face tipped up to him, he waited until she could force her eyes forward.

His smirk blurred in and out of focus. "Still with me?" he murmured.

Lips lax, eyes swimming, she nodded loosely against the pressure in her hair.

"I think you can gimme a lil' more of that," he breathed leaning down to capture her mouth in his.

He kissed her back to senseless as he rocked and rearranged himself, making his body roll in hers. She groaned wantonly into his hungry kiss as he lay back, holding her into his mouth.

He broke the kiss and she surfaced for air with a gasp.

"Your turn, princess," he crooned and pressed his lips to her forehead on the way to laying his head back.

Bella blinked her eyes open, suddenly realizing that she was draped over his chest. That fist slowly unwound from her hair and then he gathered it into both hands, lifting it off her sweat-slicked back.

She looked up to find Paul watching her over the plains of his cheeks. A private smile worked its way into his beard at whatever he saw in her face. Her hands, fisted between their bodies, turned to press against his chest as she pushed off, her eyes volleying between his in confusion.

She could still feeling him throbbing inside of her with hard heat, that beat in tandem with his booming heart under her hands.

With a sound blink, she swallowed thickly. "Did you-…?" the thought dwindled into a blush.

Paul bit his lip and shook head slowly.

Afraid she'd done something wrong, Bella brow was just furrowing when those intense eyes lit with humor.

"Make me," he soundlessly mouthed the challenge.

It was possibly the most titillating and terrifying proposition on the planet.

Heat charging to her cheeks, Bella pushed off of him further. "I-I don't-… I-.."

Paul's hands reached up and caught her with hands that were gentle. Long fingers slipped around to the nape of her neck. "Sshh," he soothed, stroking a calloused thumb over her cheek. "It's just a game, lover," he whispered.

His eyes trickled over her face with a softness that drew her in like a prayer. His hands left her neck and a finger brushed over her swollen lips on the way. "Just a game," he breathed again.

Bella's eyes darted over his face sincere and open… for a second. That smirk slipped into place, all dark and decadent and sly.

"Believe me, I could cum right this second," he purred low, vibrating clear down to her crotch. " 'Just the sight of you, sitting so pretty on my cock."

Eyes dropping to his chest, Bella sat up a little more, lids drooping at the feel of him shifting inside her. She _was_ – irrefutably – sitting on his-…

_God, he felt so incredibly good. _

Closing her eyes, she rolled her hips slowly just feeling how his body undulated in hers. Her fingertips traced absently over the ripple of his abs as she rolled her hips again, a soft breathy hum escaping from pressed lips.

Bella certainly had never been in this position - _he_ had only allowed straight-jacket missionary while she laid there without a sound. But there was something about Paul's raw eroticism that made her feel…

Free.

Suddenly he was shifting under her and Bella's eyes popped open to find him braced on one elbow. He leaned up with a petitioning mouth and she fell into his kiss. His lips caressed hers, warm and tender, as calloused fingertips brushed over her cheek. They slipped down to still her chin as he pulled away.

"Let yourself go, princess," he whispered over her lips. "Take what you want." With that he was lowering himself back down.

Bella watched him tuck an arm under his head as his other hand settled on her thigh.

Licking her lips, she let her eyes flutter closed. To just feel.

He filled her completely – and, if she was honest, right to the edge of discomfort – but whether it was body or soul, she really couldn't say. Her palms found purchase on his ribs and Bella pushed off of him, relishing each millimeter of dragging flesh as she tried to figure it out.

But at the pinnacle of that thick length she felt just as full, but also somehow like she would burst if she didn't have more.

She shooped back down slick skin, groaning with the sensation. She wasn't sure of anything - not anymore - only that she had to keep moving.

And move she did, another dizzying climb and drop back to heaven, this time pulling a guttural groan from the man below her.

Her eyes popped open to find him…

And the expression on his face stopped her heart but couldn't stop her craving body.

That mask had been ripped away from the quick, his eyes oozing emotion like a wound. There was so much going on, she couldn't begin to fathom half of it, especially when his body was moving so hypnotically inside of her.

"You're beautiful, Bella," he whispered, doing nothing to shutter it away.

She smiled – an artless expression of delight – because at that moment, with those eyes staring up at her like that, she believed him.

Bella started riding him harder.

"Yeeahhh, take it baby," he purred breathily, egging her on with words and a few well-timed thrusts of hips.

She was getting lost in the heat that coursed through her body with each pump of pistoning thighs. Her hair slapped against her back with each drop down his length and she reached behind to pull it over her shoulders.

Paul's gaze hungrily followed the heavy bounce of waves and then his eyes swarmed over her body in a feeding frenzy, veritably eating her raw.

Awe, desire, sticky-sweet hunger, Bella had never been looked at like that in her life. She felt strong and untamed, riding this wild with abandon, taking what she wanted, giving everything she had.

She rose toward another peak, its ascent sparkling around her like the white-noise thrum of blood in her ears. Throwing her head back with a soft cry, she tried to push over the top with legs that were burning and stuttering.

But a thick arm wrapped under her ass as her perch shifted under her and Bella caught herself on broad shoulders. Braced again on his elbow, Paul's eyes were smoldering coals as he pushed up with one foot and took over the movement with brisk thrusts.

Yanking ragged breath through parted lips, she couldn't seem to tear free of those eyes. They seared into her as he bounced her effortlessly over that euphoric edge.

His name fell from her lips with hoarse bliss as she tumbled over the precipice and again into rushing oblivion.

But he caught her halfway, hips still pummeling, pushing her-… _dragging_ her back up again to the sounds of slick flesh and the slap of skin. Firelit eyes begged for hers, even swimming in her head as they were, as he rearranged himself under her on his knees.

One hand fisted in her hair while the other dug into her ass as he pounded her down into accelerating hips. Teeth bared and grinding, his nostrils were flared wide and never had he looked so wild.

That hand in her hair demanded her head back. Eyes listing under heavy lids, she happily surrendered, arching back into his embrace as he crushed her into the merciless percussion of his need. Each pump of his hips pushed her higher into delirium but still her body craved more.

Harder and faster, a low rumble awoke under nails clawed into his shoulder and she felt a hot tongue swipe up the column of her throat. He nipped several times, and then smothered a groan into her skin while he bucked wildly into her body in a rhythm unraveling just like her sanity. All sense was abandoned long ago for how he made her burn.

Arched back into the petition of his fist, her body was supported by strong arms as he yanked her down into driving hunger. She felt needed by the rawest want and savagely cherished as he tattooed her neck with rough pants of her name, spat like curse with the passion of the most hallowed prayer.

She answered him with a hoarse shriek that quavered with his thrusts, feeling soaring energy coalesce with their shared peak. It felt like all the fibers of her being were unraveling only to weave and intertwine with his. She wasn't sure where she ended and he began anymore, but, in that moment, she was certain it didn't matter.

Another thrust shoved her over the mad edge, her body clenching so hard she convulsed in his grip like she'd grounded lightning.

And Bella exploded into a trillion tiny pieces.

In the blurry distance, she heard a roar hashed through gritted teeth as hips plunged into her with two deep bucks that erupted with liquid heat.

The syncopation of panting breaths, the thrum of blood, the boom of her heart throwing itself against her ribs, the way two hands still held her body tightly… she awoke to the world slowly.

Breath heaving, Bella tried to sweep together all the shards of casualty sentience, but like a fistful of sand, it slipped through her fingers. She was boneless, bodiless, incorporeal – a free-floating cloud of shimmering, humming satiation.

And she'd never felt so good in all her life.

A damp, heavy forehead fell to her chest and hurling breath billowed between her breasts, giving her some form and substance.

The fist in her hair flattened into a careful cup of her head as the other hand smoothed over her hip. This coupling had been as fierce and raw as need came, but through it all, these hands had never forgotten how to hold her.

The head resting against her chest tried to lift once, and then fell back heavily. Again he tried as those arms clumsily rearranged themselves around her, one sweeping up the sweat beading her back to cradle her limp head in two strong palms.

"Babe," he whispered, as he lifted her face up. "Hey, babe."

One hand left the back of her head and she felt it smooth over her face with calloused concern. "Bella."

Even in her current intoxicate state, her soul couldn't resist her name in that hushed bass. Her lids cracked open to the sight of Paul, mere inches away, his eyes hopscotching over her face with agitated jerks.

They immediately found hers and paced back and forth. He slowly licked his lips, like he searched for words in the wreckage. "I didn't mean to-…"

Words were difficult to find when everything lay so bare between them.

But he looked so worried. Bella's lips oozed into a Novocain smile that was as loose as sloppy as the rest of her. "Did I make you?" she slurred.

He blinked and she caught the flash of a grin before he leaned his forehead against hers. "Yeah," he breathed in a rush of air between them.

Bella realized her hands were still clawed into silky steel. Releasing his shoulders, she smoothed over the dents as one palm slipped up to the soft prickle of his jaw.

"Good," she whispered.

Paul sniffed a laugh and pulled back a few inches.

Bella's gaze washed over that handsome face, relaxed, open… maybe a little at peace. At last.

Her fingers lifted to comb through his sweat-damp waves and her eyes found his, watching her with a million quivering thoughts. She studied them for a moment, while her fingertips trickled down the side of his face. Dark, dilated and stripped to the bone, his eyes stared fearlessly back. It was a moment so intimate, it made her heart ache.

For lost boys, lost girls, time wasted…

Drawing in a long breath, Paul closed his eyes at its apex and then leaned in and took her mouth in a kiss that was as tender and sweet as the first tendrils of spring.

Their lips parted with a soft smack and he was shifting under her as he pulled her head to his chest. Blowing a slow soughing breath, he laid them both back.

Draped over his chest now, Bella wiggled her hands between them, settling happily with her cheek over his tattooed heart. She felt warm and safe and sated and completely unconcerned with anything else… at least for this blessed moment.

She sighed contentedly over his velvet heartbeat, slowing to measured and even.

Paul's palms skimmed down her body to the curve of her ass and then slowly back up. One hand gathered her tangled hair and pulled it to the side and cool air raised chills over damp skin.

Calloused fingertips dragged down the trench of her spine. "So what's the verdict, princess?" he murmured. " 'Like it?"

Bella's smile split her face before she pushed off his chest. Head propped up on one folded arm and cocking an intimidating bicep, he was watching her with that signature smirk tucked into the corner of his beard.

It was comforting and orienting.

Paul was good at that, she realized. Whether it was for him or her or both of them, she didn't know and didn't care. Propping her chin on her fist, Bella decided to help the cause with a parry of his bratty little claim about her snoring.

"I think I'd have to sample a little more," she smothered her smile. "Y'know, before I can _officially_ say."

Paul's smirk tipped into an appreciative grin as a single finger carefully tucked her hair behind an ear.

" 'Pretty sure I can arrange that."

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_Review if you like._


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